


Dream Brother I thru III (1/7)

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-15
Updated: 2001-04-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:05:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 57,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Sent to investigate mysterious hauntings in the painted wilds of Utah, the X-files team stumbles upon more than they bargained for, including the indomitable Alex Krycek.





	Dream Brother I thru III (1/7)

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Dream Brother by Tabby

Author: Tabby  
Title: Dream Brother Part I - Tear of the Moon  
Feedback:   
Webpage: http://slash-and-burn.com and http://tabbykat_95124.tripod.com/slash_and_burn1.htm  
TotalParts: 5  
Status: Complete  
Pairing: M/K  
Rating: NC-17  
Spoilers: Amor Fati  
Series: Dream Brother #1  
Summary: Sent to investigate mysterious hauntings in the painted wilds of Utah, the X-files team stumbles upon more than they bargained for, including the indomitable Alex Krycek.  
Disclaimer: In Tabby's World, the Consortium, including its members the WMM and the CSM, is alive and well. The character of Special Agent White was loosely modeled on Special Agent Doggett, but is not meant to be him. The characters Mulder, Krycek, Scully, Skinner, the Cigarette Smoking Man, the Well-Manicured Man and the Lone Gunmen are owned by Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions.  
Notes: Feedback, please! Either to the author, at either , or , or to her sister, who is to be blamed for any editorial mishaps, at . 

* * *

"God, Mulder, I can't believe we're being asked to investigate this. I cannot believe it!" The little redhead picked up the file on the Utah Haunting and dropped it on Mulder's desk. He smirked and looked at Scully.

"Yeah, I've gone through that already. It does seem dumber than usual, doesn't it?"

Scully sighed and crossed her arms, leaning against Mulder's desk. "Someone fell down an old mine shaft and broke his neck. Smashed whiskey bottle nearby. I mean, it's a tragedy, but it doesn't look like a crime and it certainly doesn't look like an X-File. The guy was drunk, he went into a decrepit old mine, he fell down, boom!"

"Yeah, yeah." Mulder said absently, flipping through the file. "But look at this: several reports by the locals of what could be considered paranormal phenomena: doors and windows opening and shutting by themselves, a wind coming out of nowhere, visions of old Indians..." he scanned down a page... "and mumble mumble."

"What did you say, Mulder?" she asked, but before he could answer Assistant Director Skinner came through the door of their messy little basement office. Mulder didn't look up so he looked Scully in the eyes.

"This case. Treat it with the utmost urgency. I want you two to fly out to Utah tomorrow. You'll be flying into Salt Lake City Airport and then in a private Cessna to Cedar City. After that you will rent a car to drive out to Park City, the ghost town. Some agents have preceded you and set things up for you. Here are your tickets."

He handed the tickets to Scully and left. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Mulder." She said.

No response. "Mulder."

"Ah -- huh?" he asked looking up at her. 

"Mulder, you were pretty rude to Skinner back there. You seem awfully preoccupied. What's up?"

In answer, Mulder grabbed his phone and punched a number into it. "Frohike," he said into the phone with quiet urgency.

On the plane ride to Salt Lake, Scully found herself really bored. Mulder was immersed in the file and messing around with his laptop and Palm Pilot and wasn't much for conversation. She hoped that this didn't constitute a precedent.

Yawning, she looked out the window but of course, there was nothing but clouds.

 

During their descent into Salt Lake City, she watched as the mountains and desert rushed up to meet them. Mulder had put away his toys and was looking eagerly over her shoulder.

"I've never been to Utah," he said.

"Well, me, either!" she smiled. "Guess there's a first for everything!"

He looked at her and smiled. "I'm sorry I've been a bear lately!"

"Oh, no, you haven't!" She reassured him.

After the plane landed and she collected her couple of bags of carry-on luggage, she noticed Mulder struggling with the rather heavy-looking pieces he'd brought with him.

"Want some help?" she asked.

"Oh, no, thank you, Scully!'

During the trek through the terminal and the claiming of the large baggage, she remained intrigued by his carry-on stuff which must have weighed fifty pounds apiece.

"Mulder," she began as they walked onto the airstrip toward the waiting Cessna, "What's in there?"

"Oh, here?" he asked innocently. "Just a change of shorts and a toothbrush!"

She scowled at him. "You're up to something, Mulder!"

He grinned back.

On the ride in the Cessna to Cedar City, they encountered some turbulence and Scully began to feel a little green around the gills. Her partner noticed. "Are you sick, Scully?" he asked.

"Uhh, well, I don't feel too well. Yes, I am sick," she said.

"Use the airsick bag if you have to."

"Uhh." She glanced around in desperation. Somewhere in her cosmetics bag... There, she'd found it. She uncapped the little brown bottle and inhaled deeply. There. Now she was beginning to feel better. If she could keep inhaling it till they got to their destination, she'd be all right.

Mulder was consumed by curiosity. "What the hell is that, Scully?"

She smiled at him. "Kind of an old-wives custom, but it works. It's ginger oil!"

Mulder grinned. "So, even you've gotten into that hocus-pocus New Age stuff!"

She gave him a look. "No way. This stuff works. Herbs and oils work because they've got drugs in them. Where would modern medicine be without herbally-derived medicines?"

"OK, you win this one," he said.

She glanced at him sharply. "Is this a competition or something?"

"Naw. Don't worry about it!"

"Are you going to tell me what you've got in those bags you've carted around and guarded so zealously?"

"In good time, Scully, in good time!"

She sighed.

As Cedar City neared, they looked out their windows and oohed and ahed. They'd never seen country just like this: painted desert, mountains and red rock formations.

They deplaned and went right into their waiting car, a Jeep. Mulder drove, which was fine with Scully, because although at first the road was fairly straight and level, it began to climb, twist and get rougher and bumpier till at last it was hardly a road at all, just two tire tracks in the desert. Scully was glad for the Jeep and couldn't wait to get to their destination.

"How's your stomach now?" Mulder asked.

"Oh, fine," she said vaguely. She was thinking and taking in the magnificent scenery at the same time, and she couldn't even remember her stomachache. Mulder must have some kind of electronic equipment in those bags, she thought. Maybe...Maybe he got it from Frohike! She smirked. She bet she could guess the rest.

"Here we are," said Mulder suddenly and Scully was snapped out of her reverie. 

They got out and stretched. The first thing that Scully noticed was that she had dressed way too heavily. She immediately shed her jacket. Then she looked around. There were several tents made of stretched parachute silk, pretty large actually; they looked tall enough at least for her to stand up in. There was a fire ring and a grate. There were jury-rigged showers with water heated by the searing desert sun. And a Porta-Potty. She wrinkled her little nose and turned away.

"Now which is my tent, Mulder?" she asked.

"Well, now, that would be the one marked Scully!" he said triumphantly. She looked, and indeed the tent was labeled. She sighed, and went inside to change and brush her hair. When she came out, she looked most fetching in t-shirt and shorts. She looked around for Mulder to compliment her, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Moments later he popped out of a tent three "doors" down from hers with two metal boxes in his arms. "Your mystery equipment?" she asked suspiciously.

"One and the same!" he sang out. From one of the other tents he retrieved a sturdy card table, placed it in the middle of the camp, and opened the boxes. Out of one he retrieved something like a stereo amplifier, and from the other, an elaborate video camera setup.

Scully ventured close to him. "OK, what is it?"

"Patience, Scully, patience. You'll know soon enough!"

The camp had a generator for the lights and a couple of electrical outlets, which Mulder plugged his equipment into. Scully watched him for a few minutes, then, as he was being less than communicative, sighed and decided to go on a short hike. The old silver mine was just a half-mile away, according to the map she'd glanced at (rather cursorily, she regretted). She thought she'd take a look.

Her light camp shirt, khaki shorts and sturdy hiking boots stood her in good stead as she hiked over the gravelly desert floor, but even so after only a hundred yards she was breathing hard and was sweating in a decidedly unladylide manner. On the way she passed rusted mining equipment from the early part of the century, some several stories high, and she repressed a shudder. Something about it... she couldn't put her finger on it...was uncanny. Maybe it was because she'd seen similar "actual, working silver mining equipment" in the Silver Legacy Casino in Reno a couple of years ago, whooshing and clanking its way into her unconscious...

She crested a ridge and there was the entrance to the old mine, partially boarded up. She crunched over to the doorway and peered in, shielding her eyes from the hot sun. The entrance shaft seemed to go straight on into the hill for a few feet and then to plunge down into unimaginable depths. She backed up, picked up a rock then threw it down the shaft. Thonk. Almost immediate impact. Well, that told her what she needed to know.

Turning around, she made her way back down the hill to camp. She must have been thinking and not looking, however, because her feet went out from under her on the gravelly embankment and she sat down hard. Well...great. She got up after regaining breath and went on to meet Mulder as if nothing had happened.

She didn't see him at first. "Mulder!" she said sharply, and he came out of his tent chewing something thoughtfully. She needn't have asked where he found food, because he spat the shells to the side of the pathway and looked up at her in amusement.

"Well, what do you think, Scully?" he asked, rather proudly indicating his setup, which now sported a parasol.

"I don't know, Mulder, first tell me what it is!"

"Well, it's a [chew, spit] device to record, analyze and transmit paranormal phenomena."

Her mouth twitched. "Yeah, I could've guessed that much, but how does it work?"

"Well, you see, this device, here, records sounds onto a chip; here's your video for getting your visuals -- including, but not limited to, Kirlian photography and videography; and this is your basic analysis unit, otherwise known as a computer." [chew, spit]

"When the boys get back from reconnaissance, in a day or so, they'll bring a stronger, bigger computer, then I'll hook that up."

"Uh-huh. "And then you take all the data back home for final analysis?"

Mulder shook his head. "No, that's the beauty of it. See this? He tapped a small satellite dish. "This bounces input off an Intelsat 6 Satellite which is capable of pinpointing an occurrence with great accuracy. The satellite analyzes the input and then beams it to the .. Uh... office of my associates."

"Your associates?" she smirked. "You mean the Lone Gunmen?"

He shot her a wounded look. "Can't get anything past you, can I, Scully?"

"So this is basically Star Wars technology we're talking about?"

He laughed. "Well, yeah. That satellite's been up there since the Reagan Administration, and it'll finally be utilized for something useful. And peaceful. Now," he stood up and stretched, directing his speech at the rocks and sagebrush. "If there's anyone out there who's even THINKING of messing with me, speak now or forever hold your peace!"

Scully laughed. For a while there was silence, then some wild bird cried. "There's your answer," his partner murmured.

"Well, the spirit of the red-tailed hawk has spoken," Mulder solemnly intoned. Scully rolled her eyes.

"Mulder, you are too much," she said, but her words were a caress. Years of working with this man had bred deep affection and fierce loyalty for him. If he devised an unusual scheme for doing something, and if he held strange beliefs, no matter how crackpot they seemed they were usually founded on something.

Scully glanced at her watch. It was 4:00, time to start thinking about dinner. Dinner? Food? As in, was there any?

"Mulder," she began, but he'd ducked into a nearby tent and was rummaging around on a shelf. 

"Here's dinner," he said, tossing out some lightweight packages, which she caught on the fly. 

"Oh, I see. Hmm. Freeze-dried stroganoff. Chocolate pudding AND cookies? Am I supposed to cook this stuff over a campfire or something?"

He grinned. "If you like, or you can use this propane stove instead," he said, hauling it out.

Grumbling, she got the stove started. "Uh, where is the water, Mulder?"

He directed her to the little well. She pumped up a panful of water. It was brown. "Mulder."

"Yes?" he was wandering around the camp in a distracted manner, looking at this and that.

"Mulder, we can't use this water like this." He came over to look at it.

"Oh, no. I suppose not. That's what this filtration device is for." he showed her, pouring the water through. It came through the device perfectly clear.

"I'll still have to boil it for twenty minutes to make sure it's safe to drink," she cautioned.

"That's fine, Scully. You do that. Uh..."

"Uh, what?" she asked, putting the pan on to boil.

"With that freeze-dried stuff, you don't open it. You just put the envelope in the water. Like a Boil-in-Bag."

"Oh. " she could feel herself flush. She was really a neophyte at this stuff. 

***********************************************************************

Later, when it began to get dark, Mulder brought some firewood around from the neatly-stacked cord in back of the camp and started a campfire in the stone ring.

They sat around the roaring blaze and traded ghost stories. Scully found some marshmallows in the supplies and they roasted these, laughing at the gooey messes they made. Scully hadn't realized how cool the high desert nights could be, and she soon had to change from her shorts and camp shirt to long johns, jeans, sweater and a fleece jacket.

She must have fallen asleep there, because when she awoke it was still dark and the fire had burned low. She yawned and stretched, and then she saw them -- the wolves. All around the fire in a great ring sat fifteen or so large, panting wolves. Scully's heart pounded like crazy. Wolves, in this desert? They'd been hunted out years ago. Yet there they sat, grey ones, dark ones, and all with their gazes fixed on Scully. 

She looked wildly for Mulder, but he was nowhere to be seen. Slowly, slowly she reached into the fire for a glowing log, pulled it out and heaved it at one of the wolves.

Who vanished like a smoke into the air. She looked around. They were all gone.

Scully jumped up went running through the camp, yelling and calling Mulder. Nothing. His tent was empty. She breathlessly jumped into her tent, looking for her cell phone and finding it. She punched Mulder's number and waited. It rang three times, then his voice mail kicked in.

"Mulder," she said, gasping, "I need you to come back to camp and I need you here now! There's something going on here and I don't understand it!"

She sat down on the campstool in her tent, and trembling, pulled out her Sig and cocked it, waiting for she knew not what.

A few moments before, Mulder had had his own adventure. After Scully fell asleep by the campfire he'd wrapped her in a fleece robe and his sleeping bag, gotten up and gone exploring. The camp seemed pretty safe and quiet, so he walked the mile or so to the ghost town. He went from door to door of the false-fronted old stores and residences and looked in. He saw furnishings in some, eaten by time. Some of the stores had gone to complete ruin, so that when he tried a door, it fell completely off its hinges.

At some point he noticed a breeze blowing, and that was odd, out here. The breeze stiffened to a howling wind which set all the old buildings rattling like bones. Mulder found that he could barely stand up, and he held on for dear life to a hitching post. Sagebrush and debris flew by and he was struck on the head with a board, and passed out.

When he came to, someone was standing over him. He scrambled to his feet, and the old Indian, for such he seemed to be, stood watching him impassively. Mulder realized that he was in the presence of a Navajo shaman, and was silent.

Then he realized that the fellow was actually levitating, and that his feet did not touch ground! Mulder felt the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

"So you're here," the Indian said in English. "With the woman. You must search for the talisman."

"Um, wh-what?" Mulder stammered.

"The talisman. When you find it, bring it to me."

"Wh-where is it? And where are you?"

"Bring it to me," the soft voice intoned, then the shaman was gone.

Mulder woke up, flat on his back in the middle of Park City with a stray dog nosing him.

"Umph, uh, ugh, go away!" he mumbled.

The dog responded by nuzzling and then licking his right hand.

Mulder fought his way upright. He had a killer headache and it seemed that every bone, muscle and sinew in his body hurt.

"Uh. Umph." The dog backed up and waited for Mulder to walk in his direction. Mulder wasn't sure he could walk in any direction, the way he felt.

"Scully..." he said helplessly.

The bonelessness passed and he was able to regain his feet. Slowly, slowly he made his way out of the ghost town and down the ancient road to camp.

When he poked his head in Scully's tent, his partner trained a gun on him but quickly dropped it when she saw who it was.

"Oh my God, Mulder," she exclaimed, grasping his hands in hers. A moment later, she realized what she was doing, and dropped them.

"There were wolves. Around the campfire." He listened intently to her story.

"You know, there ought to have been something recorded," he said thoughtfully. "Let's take a look!" They got up and went over to the Kirlian device. The videocamera was whirring and the oscilloscope was in motion. "Yeah. Something missing," he said absently, and went to rummage in the supply tent. He emerged holding a TV monitor.

"A TV?" Scully asked curiously. "We're gonna look at this on the monitor?"

"Yeah. If I can find the right cables..." He rummaged around and found a BNC and a couple of other cables, and a power strip. When the monitor was hooked up correctly, he motioned Scully over. "Look!" He said. "I'll freeze this."

"My God." she said hoarsely. There, on the monitor, in freeze-frame, were the wolves. "I-- I don't believe this, Mulder!" she fell backward, tripped on a rock, and sat down. I seem to be doing this a lot, she thought through her shock at seeing the wolves captured on video. Trying to struggle to her feet, she felt strong arms pick her up, and she looked around at Mulder. "Thanks, I don't know what came over me, and all that!"

"I do. It's pretty intense, Scully, isn't it? Not for the faint of heart!" He winked at her.

She smiled up at him. "No, it's not. Now let's hear your story!"

Scully was consumed with interest at Mulder's account of his adventures, and asked many questions regarding the Indian, the levitation, how he was dressed, etc. When they finished they fell silent for a moment.

"Mulder," Scully said, thoughtfully, "I didn't think I'd ever say this, but it does seem as though we've stumbled upon a real x-file here."

***********************************************************************

They spent part of the day at the mine. First using a crowbar, they removed the boards across the entrance, and tossed them aside. Then Mulder took a step into the mine, shining his flashlight. The light revealed the shaft going on straight in front of them, then the fall. Mulder did as Scully had the previous day, tossing a rock cautiously down into unguessed depths.

"I don't think that's very deep," he reported back to Scully, who was now standing inside the mine shining her flashlight on the decaying ceiling and floor and revealing the hundreds of cobwebs that seemed to cover everything.

"Well, good!" she said. "Makes excavation easier!"

"Yeah. Well, we have to wait for the other agents to get here for that, anyway," he said idly. "What do you suppose is down there?"

She pursed her lips. "I don't know, and I probably don't WANT to know, but our orders are to dig!"

"Yeah, you're right!" he agreed, and they left the mine.

They walked back to the camp, only to find it teeming with activity. "They're here!" Scully beamed. Now that the other agents were here, a good dozen by the look of things, a lot of responsibility would be lifted from her and Mulder's shoulders. Scully smiled at the men, then noticed a woman among the throng, and a distinct frown etched its way upon her face.

"Who's that!" she hissed to Mulder. 

"Oh -- the woman?" That's Janice Harris, a friend of mine."

"A FRIEND of yours?" Scully spluttered. The woman in question was effortlessly lifting and carrying boxes. She looked their way, smiled and put her load down.

"Fox? How good to see you! And this must be Agent Scully," she said, extending a hand. Scully declined to take it. The woman smiled again, then addressed Mulder. "Fox! You're looking fit! I'd heard that you'd signed up for this gig, but I wasn't expecting you till we had everything set up!"

"Well, we were sent out early, and well, here we are," Mulder finished lamely. Scully stood a little way off, arms crossed, looking hostile. Little Miss Janice was a little under six feet, long and lean with blonde hair in a pony tail. Scully would have liked to tear that hair out by the roots.

Agent Harris and Mulder were talking animatedly and obviously getting along famously. Scully sighed, swung her arms and decided to move on to her tent. On the way there she passed by Mulder's wonder machine. "Uh, Mulder!" she called.

He looked in her direction. "Uh, you'll want to see this!" she said, indicating the Kirlian device. Several men were working on it, fastening and unfastening things and in general meddling. She approached the most active of the bunch. "Uh, you!" she said in the most threatening tone she could muster. He paused for a moment in what he was doing, and she was caught in a steely blue gaze.

"Yes?" He asked. "I'm Agent White, and you're Agent Scully," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, but what are you doing to Mulder's machine?" she asked angrily. In a moment Mulder was upon them.

"What do you think you're doing!" he hissed, his jaw tight and fists clenched. "You're wrecking it!"

Agent White of the blue-blue eyes looked at him. "No, I'm not. I'm improving it. It'll work better than ever! And now that we've been able to look at it, we'll be able to create clones that we can set up all over!"

"Oh," said Mulder and Scully together. They looked at each other doubtfully. Mulder hated for his machine to be tampered with, but, well..

"OK." said Mulder. "I'll give it a trial. If it truly works better that way, well, then, OK. If you've wrecked it, I'll punch your lights out." He turned to walk away, and Scully joined him. For some reason she was tired, and she wanted to nap. She turned in to her bunk and was soon deep in dreamless sleep.

She awakened to the sound of Mulder calling her name. She arose yawning and stretching. She'd slept in her clothes and they were wrinkled, so she traded them for a bright camp shirt and white shorts. "Hope I don't fall on my butt in these!" She muttered. She looked at her watch. 6:00, and the summer's eve was still bright. She made her way to the fire ring, and saw that a table had been put up and set with bright placemats and napkins. In the center of the long table was a big pot of something that looked and smelled pretty good. There was a big bowl of salad, tortilla chips and salsa. Chili, that must be what's in the pot, she mused. There didn't seem to be assigned seating, so she took a seat on the right side of the table. Mulder wandered over and took the seat on her left, and before she knew it Mr. Cold Stare was on her right. She began to be really annoyed when Ms. Blonde Legs sat down on Mulder's left. What was this, some kind of conspiracy?

When she was deep in her bowl of chili, Blue Eyes decided to favor her with a greeting.

"How are you liking the food, Agent Scully? Better than freeze-dried, isn't it?" he asked.

"Um, yes, much better. Did you guys bring along a cook or something?"

He smiled. "A couple of the agents are really good cooks. We brought all kinds of provisions, fresh food and a refrigeration unit to keep it in. A truck came up today."

"Uh, wow. That's really good," she said around chili. "I'm really glad to hear that!"

"Yes, we wanted to make sure that you and Mulder would be taken care of and not want for anything!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Just me and Mulder? Why do we merit special treatment?"

"Well, it's for all of us, really," he amended, "but especially for you two. It's your case."

She chewed and swallowed. "Well, if that's the case, why did you insist on tinkering with Mulder's machine? And it's a magical machine," she added thoughtfully, taking another bite.

He looked at her thoughtfully a moment. "Well, we made the modifications to improve it based on Mulder's orders -- "

She snorted. "Mulder's orders? I don't think so!" she dug a considerable amount of salsa onto a chip and raised it to her mouth. White watched her appreciatively. 

"Yes." he said. "We had a call from a 'Frohike' who told us what to do. He said he was working under Mulder."

Scully almost choked on her chip. "Uh. Oh. Frohike. Well, that's OK! That would be Mulder's orders, all right," she said carefully. Scully shot a look at Mulder. He was deep in conversation with Blonde Bimbo. "Yes, definitely, you did the right thing, Agent White."

He smiled. He had a nice smile.

She finished the rest of the meal in silence but she did steal several glances at both White and Mulder. Mulder was completely ignoring her and talking and laughing with the Blonde Bitch. White, on the other hand, met her every glance with a level blue gaze, so like her own. She felt, on balance, a little unnerved.

She helped clear the table after dinner. Fortunately, they'd used paper plates in wicker holders, so at least there was no china to wash. Scully hung around long enough to ask whether she could help with the washing-up, and when her help was declined, she walked back to her tent. Maybe she could get some journaling in.

Mulder retired to his tent, but he was not alone, as Bimbette appeared to have accompanied him and they talked animatedly long into the evening. When a campfire was built Scully stopped by his tent to let him know, but he had preceded her, with BB, as Scully was beginning to call her, although by her physical construction she was more like CC or even DD. They sat on a log together, smiling at each other. Finally Scully could stand it no longer. She approached them. "Mulder."

He looked up and smiled. "Yes?"

"Are you two like, uh... girlfriend and boyfriend? Do you have a relationship? I mean, I'm sorry to be so rude, but..." She blushed a deep scarlet.

Mulder and Harris looked at her, then they looked at each other. Then they laughed. "No!" Mulder said. He looked at Agent Harris. "Can I tell her?" He asked.

"Oh, sure," she said, smiling.

Mulder turned back to Scully. "Scully," he said carefully, "this can't get past us, OK?"

Scully shrugged. "Whatever it is, OK!"

"OK. Agent Harris is gay, Scully!"

For the second time in a few moments, Scully blushed crimson. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" she said. "I mean, I'm not sorry that you're ... uh... that you're gay, I'm sorry that I was so intrusive and that you had to reveal something so personal."

Agent Harris blushed a blonde lock off her forehead. "It's perfectly OK! I get this from women all the time. They are envious of my looks, I guess, but actually they have nothing to be jealous of. I'd never steal anyone's man! So don't worry: your boyfriend is safe with me!" She winked at Scully.

Scully felt the hot blood rising in her face and quickly excused herself before she embarrassed herself with another blush. She sat down on one of the other logs and waited for the S'mores to come out. She felt a lot safer tonight. On balance, she was really glad that the other agents were around, but she did feel a little unnerved by that Agent Steel Eyes.

Of course, he eventually came and sat down next to her. Of course. She tried a tentative smile, and was rewarded with a smile from him. "May I say something?" he asked

"Oh, sure, talk away," she said, inwardly groaning.

"I've been following your career," he said. "You are quite possibly the most intriguing woman I've ever met."

"Oh?" she raised an eyebrow.

"You are. You are the most interesting, the brightest...and the most beautiful."

UH-oh! She could feel another blush coming on. "Uh..." she said helplessly.

"Don't worry, I won't try to jump your bones," he said, smiling. "That's not what this is about. I just wanted to pay you a compliment. I suspect you get too few of those," he said, nodding in the direction of Mulder.

Suddenly she felt angry. "What transpires between me and Mulder is none of your business," she said crisply.

"Sorry," he said, and held her eyes for a moment. "Well, I've got to be going."

"Wait! Has Mulder told you about the wolves and the Indian?"

He looked down at her. "Yes, he has, and we've seen the video recording of the wolf apparition. Don't worry, we're on top of things!" He brushed her shoulder with his hand, ever so slightly, then he was off.

After the S'mores and the spooky stories and the campfire songs Scully retired to her bed and wrapped her down sleeping bag around her. She looked through her journal and stared at the tent. She had one window which looked right into another tent, so she closed it.

Again she fell into dreamless slumber. She was awakened to the sound of someone banging a pan with a stick. "Morning," the noisemaker mercilessly yelled. "Get up! Breakfast on the table!"

Scully groaned and fell out of bed, hurriedly dressing. Two tents down, Mulder was doing the same thing -- alone. He didn't understand what all the fuss was with Scully's jealousy of Janice. It was the most platonic of friendships which had developed when he was a profiler and she, his protegee. He had never found women all that attractive, anyway, and she was not even his type. Someday he would have to reveal himself to Scully, but he did not look forward to that day.

He was curious about the Kirlian equipment, whether it still worked, whether it recorded anything. He'd have to take a look at it later, after breakfast and a shower. He'd noticed, by the way, that Scully'd looked a little wilted lately. He'd have to think of a tactful way of showing her how to use the shower.

The table was laden with pancakes, French toast, bacon, sausage, butter and syrup, coffee, milk, and tea, so that everyone might have his choice. Mulder ate heartily of the French toast and sausage, looking speculatively at Scully from time to time. She was seated by that White guy again. They appeared to be engaged in animated conversation. Well, good. It was exactly what Scully needed. But he needed to ask White a question, too.

"Hey, Agent White," he called.

The other agent looked at him in surprise.

"I wanted to know how the Kirlian videography went," he said.

White stroked his chin. "Well, I looked at it, and I'd have to say there's definitely something there. No wolves this time, looks like a person. Maybe a young Navajo girl."

"Wow!" Mulder said. "Were there sounds?"

"Well, we can't quite make 'em out. We'll have to run the tape through a processor. We also have a program that can identify words from mouth positions, like reading lips. Don't worry, we'll get 'em. Of course, if it turns out she's speaking Navajo, we'll have a whole new set of problems," he laughed.

Mulder looked thoughtfully at him. This man was proving to be quite a big help. He wondered who had dropped White on him. Skinner?

After breakfast, he helped clear and noticed Scully and White were washing dishes together. Well, that was really nice. She was developing a friendship there. It wasn't good for her to be so closed up and solitary.

Mulder went over to his machinery and fiddled with it till he got his footage: yep, it sure looked like a Navajo woman, young, wispy, not really clear. He turned the sound up and yes, he could hear her; some of it: "___ back the talisman. ___ ___ the one. The one must take back ___ ___." He rubbed his jaw. What in bloody hell was the "talisman?" And who or what was "the one?" He thought about it and decided that it was actually "The One," though who or what "The One" was he had no idea of.

"Mulder." came a voice at his ear. He straightened up and smiled down at Scully. 

"Were you watching this?"

"I was," she said gravely. "It was very interesting. Was it like the Indian experience you had in Park City?"

"Yes, although the fellow in the ghost town was more solid-looking, and he spoke more clearly."

She tapped her cheek. "Excavation begins today. Do you have any idea what they might be after?"

He shrugged. "Just what we've been told. Indian artifacts, that sort of thing."

"Uh-huh." She turned away, then back again. "Agent White is leading the excavation."

He snorted. "Yeah, well, I'm not surprised. Are we included?"

She hesitated. "Well, yes and no. We can help in the excavation if we want, but our primary mission is to mind the Kirlian equipment and the ghost town. They're setting up clones of your machine, one in Park City, one near the mine. We load them with tape and check 'em, that sort of thing."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Well, OK, guess that's what they want, that's what we'll do."

She nodded. "The excavation started at 6 this morning," she added desultorily.

He laughed. "You're getting a lot of info out of that White guy, aren't you?"

She looked down. 

"No, that's perfectly OK. It's great. Keep it up!"

She looked at him rather sadly, he thought, then looked away.

"Um, Mulder."

"What?"

"Could you show me how to use the shower?"

He laughed. "Of course, I will."

About an hour later they agreed to go look at the mine site again. Mulder was curious about the excavation. Around his neck he wore binoculars. "I want to spot another hawk," he explained. They hiked up to the mine slowly, Mulder scanning the sky for the red-tailed hawk. Along the way, they didn't see or hear the hawk, but they encountered a lizard which quickly scurried into the shelter of a rock.

Scully looked around her. She had to admit, the place held a tremendous wild beauty. There were red rock formations everywhere and even the dirt was red. 

The excavation was proceeding slowly, with the use of shovels and smaller tools, and they both approved. "At least they're not using a backhoe or something," Mulder observed. "Not much to see here yet. I still want to see that hawk, though." He spun the binoculars in a wide arc then froze, focusing on something in the distance. "What's that --looks like someone riding a horse. Some cowboy," he said dismissively, but something compelled him to keep the glasses trained on the tiny figure.

"May I look?" Scully asked.

"Sure." he handed her the binoculars. "See -- right there!"

"Oh." She said. "It's a cowboy or someone like that. He really oughtn't to be coming to the mine site, Mulder," she said severely. "This is a classified mission."

"Uh, you're right," he said. "Here, let me take another look." The rider's wide-brimmed hat obscured his facial features in shadow. He was riding and leading another horse. There was something odd about him... Mulder sucked in breath in a hiss.

"Well, what is it?" Scully asked.

The rider had only one arm.

Mulder felt his knees turning to jelly, and he shook like a sapling in a strong wind.

"Mulder. What is it?" she asked.

She took the glasses from around Mulder's neck and trained them on the oncoming figure. "Well, what?" she asked, beginning to be irritated. Then, "Oh. My. God. Mulder, Mulder," and shook him. "Mulder! He can't come here! He cannot!"

Mulder was riveted to the ground. Scully threw a desperate look at him, then ran toward the mine. He could hear her shouting to the agents at the excavation.

Agent White left his digging and sifting and wiped his hands free of the sandy soil. Scully had completely lost her cool demeanor and was yelling about treason and murder. She ran up to him, sucked in a breath then began. "There is a man, riding a horse, God knows why he is here, but he is here and you must not let him in here! Don't let him be here! Send him away! Kill him! Do something!"

White raised an eyebrow. "Kill an innocent cowboy? Why on Earth? Are you OK, Agent Scully?"

She looked at him. Her whole body was quivering. "He's poison. He's a killer, a murderer, treasonist, liar, betrayer..."

"Um-hum. Does he have a name?"

"His name is Alex Krycek."

He tapped his chin. "Alex Krycek. The double agent? Yes, I know the name well. But what would he be doing out here in the middle of the Utah desert?"

"Don't you believe me?" she asked desperately. "Take a look!" she said, proferring the binoculars.

He trained them on Krycek, now approaching at a canter as if aware of all the hubbub. He wasn't headed for the mine at all, but for the lone figure of Mulder.

"Wonder what he wants with Mulder," he said softly.

"Sir." Said Scully sternly. "Are you going to do something, or what?"

He looked down at her. She was a feisty little thing, but scared. "Yes, I will have a talk with this fellow and warn him off the property," he said.

Meanwhile the horses had already reached Mulder, and Krycek appeared to be conversing with him. The rider was close enough to make him out with accuracy: it was indeed Krycek.

"I'm gonna kill him," Scully hissed and ran off through the sagebrush.

Mulder watched the arrival of the rider with a mixture of apprehension and the kind of anticipation that made him quake. Crunching across the loose rocks and neighing softly, the horses invited him to join them. Mulder finally looked up, and there was Alex, his Alex, looking down at him and pushing back his hat. There was a smile, a flash of very white teeth, and the vivid green eyes raked him up and down. "Looking good, Mulder," he said, and the husky/sweet voice was a caress.

"Uh. Hi, Alex," Mulder said weakly. "Uh, nice horses. I didn't expect to see you here!"

Krycek laughed. "Well, one of these horses is for you, obviously, this palomino I'm leading. He's a nice steady gelding and probably won't throw you."

"Uh. Oh. I'm going riding with you?" Mulder asked lamely.

Krycek nodded. "Yes, you are, you and none other." He slid off his horse with fluid grace and handed over the reins of the palomino. "See, this black I'm riding...pretty fiery...he'd have you off in a heartbeat. Now see if you can mount."

"Uh. " Mulder looked toward the mine. "I should probably be telling people where I'm going. "Where am I going?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out. Speaking of people, here's your fireball running down the hill. Probably wants to kill me," he said calmly. "Now, see whether you can mount. Here's a leg up!"

Mulder suddenly found himself sprawled over the back of the palomino gelding; the horse snorted and took a step to the left, and Mulder took a header.

Krycek tried not to laugh. "The object is to get into the saddle and stay there. Now, we'll try again." This time, Mulder was successful and stayed in the saddle. He put his feet in the stirrups and suddenly began to feel very strange.

"I can't abandon the mission, my research here," he objected.

"You won't be. I've got to show you something that relates very closely to your mission, and you are key. But you've got to come with me over the mountains" and he looked very hard at Mulder. "It's not for the faint of heart."

Scully had reached them by this time. She wasted no time in getting at Krycek: she took a swing at him and connected very hard. He took the blow and looked down, long lashes fluttering. He sighed. "I didn't kill your sister, Scully," was all he said to her.

"Yes, but you killed so many other people, including Mulder's father --Mulder, are you listening to this? Krycek! Pah! I spit on your name! You're a murderer, treasonist, liar, cheater, betrayer."

Krycek didn't answer, but mounted his horse. She pursued him and grabbed his leg. Angrily, he shook her hand free.

Just then Agent White came striding up. "OK, everyone chill. Now, what seems to be the problem?"

Scully said angrily, "The PROBLEM is that this SCUM is abducting Mulder!"

White looked at Mulder. "Is this true?"

Mulder, bemused, looked down at him. "I don't think so."

"You don't THINK so? Either he's abducting you, or he's not!"

Mulder appeared to come to a decision. "No, Agent White. He's not. I go with him of my own free will."

White ran a hand through his hair. "You can't abandon the mission, Agent Mulder. You're on the job."

"But I'm not. Krycek is going to show me something that's crucial to the mission."

White snorted. "Uh-huh, sure. Agent Mulder, as your senior agent, I command you to stay."

Krycek began to turn his horse and he indicated that Mulder do likewise. Mulder had never ridden but he was able to get the reins in the correct configuration to get the horse turned. White took a step toward them. Krycek clucked softly to his mount and the black stallion snorted and began to walk. Mulder quickly imitated him.

White began to run after them. "Mulder!" he said threateningly. "Stop! I forbid you to go! I forbid it, Mulder!"

"Mulder! Stop!" chimed in Scully, a note of desperation in her voice.

White drew his gun. "Krycek! Mulder! Stop or I'll shoot!"

Krycek dropped the reins, turned around in the saddle and drew his gun. The horse kept going, evidently well-trained. "I am a marksman, White! I'll drill you before you get the chance to pull the trigger!"

"He's right!" Mulder's words floated back to them. Then he made a quick motion and his gun was in his hands.

"I don't want to hurt you, Mulder!" White said. Then he glanced at Scully. Her mouth was set in a grim line. "That man, that Krycek is a contract killer, the best. He would kill us both. Better let them go."

She turned away and dashed a hand at her eyes, wiping away tears. He pulled a gun on us, she thought. MULDER pulled a gun on us.

White lowered his gun. Krycek rode in close to Mulder. "We're going to canter now. Cluck to your horse and nudge him with your legs." Mulder did as he was told, and his mount broke into a slow gallop. The gait was rolling and comfortable.

"You're doing fine!" Krycek shouted over the thunder of the hooves. "We can go on for a few miles at this gait, no problem!"

"Hey, why these horses anyway? Why not an ORV?"

"No ORV can go where we're going, Mulder!"

Back at the camp, the rescue party was being organized. Jeeps were being mustered. Scully had asked to be included in the party, and was accepted, as was Mulder's friend Janice Harris. Janice offered to drive one of the Jeeps, and Scully rode with her. "Don't worry, Agent Scully, we'll find them!" Janice said reassuringly, but Scully wasn't that hopeful. 

"You don't know Krycek," she pointed out. "He's the slipperiest devil there ever was. And call me Dana," she said.

Janice smiled. "OK, Dana. Now I've packed food, water, tent -- and lots of heat," she observed, looking at the collection of firearms.

"OK. Are we really going to have to use all these guns?"

"Well, we hope not."

Scully ran a hand through her her distractedly. "I just want to see Mulder back here safe. If we can pick off Krycek, so much the better, but Mulder is the priority."

"Well, of course he is."

Within the space of a few minutes they were ready to roll. Scully took the passenger seat, checked for her Sig for the fifth time that afternoon, strapped herself in and sighed. She really hoped that the day would not end in a bloody battle.

***********************************************************************

"Mulder! Breather!" Krycek called to him, and slowed his horse to a walk. Mulder did likewise, but not before he'd been jolted to hell and back by his mount's uncomfortable trot. Krycek looked into the distance, back toward the camp. "I thought so!" he hissed. "Son of a bitch!"

Mulder looked back and what he saw made his heart sink into his shoes. Clouds of dust, and vehicles emerging from the clouds. "Why?" he asked. "Why are they doing this?"

"Because I'm Alex Krycek and I'm the devil incarnate." he said bitterly. "Mulder, we need a plan."

"Sure. What?"

"Look, about a mile from here there's a draw, a dry wash. It's about fifty feet deep. We can hide in there in the tamarisks, pull sagebrush over our heads. It won't be fun but it'll work."

"Oh. OK," Mulder said docilely. "Well, let's go!"

They urged their horses into canters then dead-on gallops. Mulder hoped like hell one of the horses wouldn't put a foot in a gopher hole or something. He had a little trouble keeping his balance on his horse at first, but then it seemed to become easier. Alex frequently smiled at him and urged him on, and the encouragement helped.

They reached the wash a couple of miles ahead of the Jeeps and quickly rode down into it. Mulder was sure he'd fall off his horse, which navigated the steep side of the arroyo without a misstep, despite the fact that there was no trail. There was a little creek at the bottom and there were tamarisks, small lacy trees, as promised. They dismounted, then watered the horses, who drank deeply, and then they pulled up some sagebrush and camouflaged themselves and the horses. Now the only things they had to worry about were the animals, which were "talking" to each other, making whickers and snorts and other little horsey noises. They prayed like hell that they hadn't been seen, riding into the draw. They waited breathlessly as the far-off whine of the Jeeps became louder and louder. The vehicles seemed almost to be upon them, then the noise stopped.

Krycek put his hand upon both horses' noses to quiet them.

Mulder's eyes were squinched shut and he was praying to every deity he had ever studied or encountered. Krycek was alert, tense as a bowstring. Then one of the horses snorted. Mulder opened his eyes and looked into Krycek's. He read fear and resignation: the eyes of a survivor, steeling for death.

It seemed like a long, long heartstopping time before the Jeep engines turned over then roared into life. The three (from the sound of them) vehicles started toward their right, back toward the distant end of the draw. By the time they found it, IF they found it, and if it could be navigated, Krycek and Mulder would be long gone. They waited till the droning engines faded to a distant whine then pulled off the sagebrush and rode up out of the other side of the wash.

They rode side by side, very close, at a walk. Mulder marveled how a horse could walk, snort, and swish away flies all at the same time. Krycek worried about their pursuers. "Mulder," he said.

"Yes?"

"Let's just walk for a while. I'm afraid of raising big clouds of dust -- that's how they found us, pretty easily, before. Soon we'll get to some stands of pinyon pines -- they're not very big, but they'll shield us. We can go faster then."

"OK. But, Alex -- "

"Yep?"

"I'm thirsty. Could I have a drink of water?" he asked, eyeing the canteens hopefully.

Krycek was off his mount in a flash. "Sure," he said, and unbuckled a water bottle from his saddle. He brought it to Mulder, who drank deeply. 

"Thanks!" he said gratefully.

"Sure!" Krycek said, and mounted easily despite his affliction. Mulder wondered how he could ride and do all that he had to do with one arm.

"It's not that hard," Alex murmured. Mulder started. Had he voiced his query?

Krycek settled his hat on his head. "Soon, I promise, Mulder, we'll make camp. I'm waiting for us to reach a pine forest, real trees, then I think we'll be safe. Then we can rest and eat."

"Cool," said Mulder, for want of anything better to say.

They rode at a steady walk, the horses nodding with their strides and biting away the occasional fly. The canteen water Mulder'd drunk sloshed around comfortably in his belly. He had time to pat his mount and admire him. Such beautiful horses. Krycek had good taste.

After about an hour they reached the pinyon pine forest. Krycek clucked to his stallion and the horse broke into a canter, and Mulder followed suit. It was a wonderful rocking-chair gait and Mulder felt he could ride it forever, but there was Alex, urging more speed out of his mount, so Mulder did the same. Side by side they rode, eating up the miles.

***********************************************************************

When the Jeeps arrived at the edge of the draw, Scully wanted to cry. Only fifty feet deep, but straight down. Their vehicles would never make it. Agent White alighted from his Jeep and motioned to cut the engines.

White went over to look at the edge of the ravine. Soon, his keen eyes found what they were looking for: two sets of hoof tracks in the sandy soil at the top of the ravine, then tracks down into it. He tapped his nose.

"I won't mince words, they're down in that ravine," he said. "But we can't get at them, at least from this angle, unless any of you want to go down there on foot." Scully started to speak but he cut her off with a wave of his hand. "To continue to pursue them, we've got to follow the wash until we can enter it. Then, I believe we may get them. We can certainly catch up to them."

Scully piped up, "If they're down there, they'll just leave by riding up the other side, Agent White. Why don't you call in heli-"

He interrupted her. "No helicopters, at least as of yet. I'd have to call my boss and present the case that Mulder was abducted, when he clearly left of his own accord."

Scully fumed. "That man--that Krycek-- he has some power over Mulder. Mulder would follow him anywhere. To the gates of Hell." she finished dramatically.

White was about to say something, then gave her a long, speculative look. "You may be right. Now, I'd just let him go, but our mission has been compromised. We don't absolutely need to have Mulder back, except to keep him from spilling more information than he already no doubt has, but we do need to think about getting rid of Krycek at some point. I think, I think we'll get around to driving into the draw. I think they're in there and they'll stay in there. Look at this country." he indicated the vast sweep of desert ringed by mountains. "There's no place else to hide."

"They could be hiding behind one of those rock formations." Scully indicated the red rocks around them.

"I don't think so. They're not big enough, unless they're able to get the horses to lie down behind them. And anyway, I'll be looking out for them. If they move, I'll get them, and if they wait till night to move, I'll just get them on my infrared scope."

Scully sighed and got back into her vehicle. Janice Harris smiled brightly at her and started the engine. "We'll find Mulder, don't worry!" she said, shaking Scully's knee.

***********************************************************************

Mulder and Krycek began slowly to climb up out of the desert, so slowly that Mulder didn't realize it until the horses began to slow, first to a canter and then to a bone-jarring trot. "How. Do. You. Ride. This. Damned. Thing?" Mulder wanted to know. Krycek was amused.

"You know, in Western riding your ass is supposed to just 'kiss' the saddle. Hence the origin of the term, 'kissing ass.'"

"Ver. Y. Fun. Y." Mulder ground out from behind clenched teeth.

A shadow fell across him and he looked up. It was a pine tree, a large sugar pine. "Are. We. At. The. Forest. Yet?" he asked.

Krycek glanced around. "Just about. You can walk your horse, Mulder."

Mulder blew out breath. "Wheeew! That was just about all I could take."

Krycek looked back at him. "No, it wasn't," he said quietly.

"Now, what's that supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean that there's more to come, Mulder. Remember I told you? This journey is not for the faint of heart."

Afternoon shadows were long by the time they reached the forest. Krycek looked here and there with bright eyes until he found the place he wanted, by the side of a stream. "Here, tie up your horse to these trees," he said, dismounting as he did everything, gracefully; tying up his horse, flopping down on the soft pine duff, and seeming to fall into a reverie. He did not offer to help Mulder dismount.

Mulder groused about it, got tangled in his tack, and eventually slid down in a boneless lump. Wow! Was he sore! He could barely hobble well enough to tie up his horse, then he lay down on the soft forest floor. He squinted up at the sun which slanted through the trees, then down at his watch. "8:30," he said thoughtfully. "Think they'll come after us any more tonight?"

"Well," Krycek said, "OK. They've got these vehicles with amazingly sophisticated navigation equipment, and they've got infrared glasses and all that. Yeah, they could find us. But no, they're tired, athough not as tired as we are, probably, and right now they're making camp and thinking about discontinuing the search." He yawned.

"Well, what about helicopters?"

"What about 'em? They're not much good at night, and by the time they could fly some over, we'll be high in the mountain passes. They won't be able to see us unless they fly so close they'd crash...prob'ly."

Mulder stirred. "Shouldn't we unpack the stuff? You've got sleeping bags and all that?"

Krycek smiled. "Oh, of course I have!"

Krycek unbuckled his and Mulder's bedrolls, rolled his eyes at Mulder and placed their sleeping bags side by side. "You can change this positioning if you want," he said, his husky-sweet voice wistful.

Mulder looked at the bedrolls. "No, this'll be just fine."

Krycek flopped down on his sleeping bag. "You can unpack the rest of the way, Mulder," he said. "I'm really tired."

"I know, but I'm really tired too."

"I rode all the way out there to get you."

"Oh, all right," Mulder sighed. "How do you get these things untied --oh, I see," as the bags tumbled at his feet. His horse -- "What're these horses called, anyway?" he called.

"Uh, dumb and dumber?" Krycek smirked. "No, mine's called Diablo, and yours is named Taggart."

"Diablo is well-named," Mulder groused. Everytime he tried to unbuckle bags from the saddle strings, the stallion made as if to nip him.

Krycek sat up on his elbow. "Just give him a knee in the ribs when he does that, and he'll stop!"

"How do I take off the saddles? Oh, I see." Mulder got them off and set them carefully on the forest floor.

"Don't take off the bridles," Krycek said quickly. "I didn't bring halters."

Mulder rummaged around in the bags.

"I see trail mix in here, Krycek, but I don't see stuff to cook."

"That's because there isn't any." Krycek lay back and looked at the sky. "Any smoke from a campfire, even from food spilled on a propane stove, and they'd be able to pinpoint us. They'd be on us like a duck on a June bug."

Mulder came over with the trail mix, munching some and giving the rest to Krycek. "Krycek, how come you know so much about horses?"

"I learned horsemanship in Russia," he said. "And by the way, Mulder, you're not done. You need to feed and water those horses and groom them."

"Groom them! They're not going to a show!"

Krycek smiled. "It's part of their health care." He got up and retrieved a wicked-looking serrated metal object and an oval brush. "This, " he said, holding up the metal thing, "is the currycomb, and this is the body brush. Use gentle circular strokes with the comb, and follow the grain of the hair with the brush. Oh, and here's the hoof pick. Here, I'll pick out the hooves while you brush 'em."

"What are you looking for when you do that?"

"Oh, stones, burrs, things like that," Krycek said distractedly. Then he stiffened. "Oh, shit."

"What is it?"

"Here -- look!" He indicated Taggart's right hind hoof. "Here -- in his off hind. The beginnings of a quarter crack."

Mulder looked at the hoof. "So, it has a tiny little crack -- so? It doesn't hurt or anything, does it?"

"Well, it probably doesn't hurt yet, but it can develop into a real monster that'll cripple the horse. If that happens in the next little while, you'll have to walk or ride up behind me."

He turned to Mulder. "You know that old adage, 'no feet, no horse'?" It's absolutely true. They might catch us after all, Mulder," and in his voice was desperation.

"Well.." Mulder said, and shrugged his arms. "If it happens, it happens, I guess."

"Not just yet, I hope," and Krycek gathered both sets of reins to take their mounts down to the little creek.

***********************************************************************

Scully'd ridden the long miles beside the ravine in silence. They finally arrived at an opening into the wash that was just five or six feet deep. The Jeeps could make it, no problem, and then they went steaming up into the draw till White waved them to a halt. "What we need are tracking dogs," he said tensely. Their prints are all over the bottom of the ravine, and I can see where they left up the other side after all."

He turned to Scully. "You were right, Agent Scully. They did just climb up the other side. "We could track 'em on foot but we'd never catch 'em."

"I've come to the conclusion that we need 'copters. They could spot 'em and apprehend them."

"Sir," Scully spoke up, "What's going to happen to Agent Mulder?"

White sighed. "Unless he actually opens fire on us, Agent Scully, he should be fine. At this point I've been instructed to handle him with care. We will place him in custody, fly him back to D.C. and place him in psychiatric care for deprogramming."

Scully and Harris made camp at the bottom of the arroyo. Scully made dinner for them both. It consisted of coffee and beans. 

Janice Harris looked at the beans on her plate a little sadly. "Yeah, I know, " Scully said. "I can't cook!"

"That's OK, Dana," Janice said brightly. "I'll just cook for us next time!"

"OK, then I volunteer to drive, OK?"

"Oh, that's all right, either way," she said carelessly. "Dana," she began, hesitantly, I'd just like you to know that you've been a really good sport. I know how important it is to you about Mulder. Believe it or not, it's really important to me, too, that he be found and brought back here safe and sound."

"Yeah," said Scully, playing with her beans, "I know."

***********************************************************************

After they'd watered the horses, fed them corn from a sack and then tied them up for the night, Krycek and Mulder retired. The evening sky was darkening and the stars were coming out.

They flopped down on their bedrolls and stretched out.

"Look, there's Venus."

"And Mars. I see Orion."

"And Ursa Major."

"I see Sirius, the Dog Star. But what's that one, really bright, over to the East there?"

"That's the satellite star," Mulder smirked.

"Sheesh!" Said Krycek

Mulder thought of satellites, then he thought of his unfinished work at the camp. Oh, it would go on, but without him. Then he thought of Scully, and his heart weighed heavily in his chest.

"What's the matter? What are you thinking about?" It was Krycek, poking him.

"Um, nothing."

"Oh, and does this 'nothing' have red hair?"

Mulder was silent.

"Oh, I can make you forget her." It sounded like a challenge.

"Oh, and how's that?" He tried to sound nonchalant, but his heart was pounding.

"Like this," Krycek said, and leaned over and kissed him. 

Mulder let him, then broke free of the kiss in confusion.

"Hey, if you don't want this..." Krycek said, sounding hurt.

"Oh, no, I do. I really do," and Mulder kissed him back. It was a deep kiss, searing in its intensity, his tongue exploring Krycek's mouth as Krycek's explored his. In wrapping his arms around Krycek, Mulder realized that he was shirtless. He explored further south, discovering that he was completely nude, and that his cock was very hard.

They eventually came up for air. "Lisitsa," said Krycek tenderly, and kissed him again. He kissed him on the forehead, on the nose, on the lips, on the ears, on the throat. His kissed him in ways that Mulder had never been kissed, except by this man.

His undid Mulder's shirt buttons and kissed him on the chest. He licked down the center of his chest and lapped at his nipples until they hardened.

He was aware of Mulder's large erection bulging in his jeans. Unsnapping and unzipping Mulder, he commanded him tersely to stand up, and he pulled his jeans off.

They lay back down. "Mulder, I'm gonna suck your brains right out through your cock," he said conversationally. Mulder moaned.

Krycek started teasing him with his tongue, licking down the inside of one thigh and up the other, circling the base of his cock, sucking in first one ball then the other, and finally, delicately tasted the head. Mulder rewarded all this with grunts, groans, wriggles and moans.

"You're teasing me, Alex!" he groaned

"Yes, but it's so much more fun that way!" Krycek grinned.

He licked up and down the shaft and then quick as a wink swallowed Mulder's entire cock down to the root. "Ah, God, that's great!" Mulder gasped.

It didn't take Mulder long. Krycek established a rhythm of in-and-out sucking and shortly thereafter, Mulder came down his throat, his screams echoing off the trees. A bird cried and took flight.

Mulder sighed and hugged Krycek to him. "That was fantastic!" He said. "Now what can I do for you?" 

Krycek disentangled himself and got up, brushing off pine needles. "Just a mo," he said, went over to the saddles and extracted something from under a flap. "Here we go, " he said happily, and tossed it on the sleeping bag. It was too dark to know for sure but Mulder could hazard a guess. 

"Lube?" He asked hopefully.

"Yes, indeed lube. Now, Mulder, I'll give you a choice: on your knees or on your side."

Mulder opened his mouth. "How about--"

Krycek shushed him. "You blew your choice. Get on your knees, ass up in the air."

Mulder did as he was told. Krycek slicked his own cock with the lube then without preamble, shoved himself past the tight ring of muscle into Mulder's ass.

"Oh God," Mulder gasped. "Feels good, Krycek."

A hand lightly caressed his back. "Call me Alex."

"OK. Alex." He gasped and moaned as Krycek, inch by inch, shoved his cock home.

He thrust, and thrust again, and Mulder almost screamed. His own cock was very hard and begging for attention, so he sneaked a hand back to it but was batted away by Krycek's.

"Don't worry; I'll handle that," he said, and in a moment began working Mulder's cock from base to tip. Mulder sobbed. 

"Alex, Alex!" he cried and just as he came, shooting white trails on the sleeping bag, so did Krycek, emptying himself into Mulder's heat.

He pulled out and flopped alongside Mulder, who had collapsed on his sleeping bag. "Well? Did I make you forget about Scully for half an hour?"

Mulder mumbled into Krycek's shoulder, "For mmmm"

"Mulder?"

"I said for the rest of my mmm. For the rest of my life." Then he was kissing Krycek, and reality melted away.

***********************************************************************

Scully lay on her back glumly looking up at the same stars Mulder was seeing. She was seriously bummed by recent developments and the fact that she'd just gotten her period and had pretty bad cramps didn't help any.

"Damn Mulder," she said softly into the night. Why did he have to go off gallivanting through the rocky wilds of southern Utah with that Krycek person? While she realized that there were parts of Mulder's mind closed off forever from her, this action was really incomprehensible.

"Hi, Agent Scully," a voice came from above, and she immediately sat up, heart pounding. 

"Is that you, Agent White? Shouldn't you be in the little boys' camp?" she asked drily, composure returning to her.

He laughed. "Just wanted to talk a moment," he said.

She patted the large flat rock her sleeping bag lay on. "Well, here, sit. Talk."

When he paused, she said, "I have the feeling you are looking at me gravely. This is important?"

"Well, yes, it is. I wanted you to know that you are asked to be aboard one of the helicopters, as am I."

"Oh? Why? What do I have to do?"

"The 'why' is because you are familiar with both Agent Mulder and EX-Agent Krycek, and you may have some clues as to where they've gone."

"They could be anywhere, in this trackless wilderness," Scully said.

"Do you happen to know of any residences of Krycek's up in these parts?"

She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine! Krycek has been all over the world, and he is comfortable in any kind of situation. He might have been heading for a mud hovel, for all I know."

She turned to White and put her small earnest hands on his big ones. "Honestly, I don't know where they've gone. I would've thought Mulder would've tried to call me, but maybe Krycek's got him under his spell. Or tied up somewhere."

White rubbed his upper lip. "OK, thanks for your honesty. Agent Scully --" he paused.

"Yes?"

"Um, why do you suppose it is that this Krycek's got a hold on Mulder? A psychological hold, I mean?"

"Do you mean, is he some kind of Svengali? I don't know," she said slowly. "I assume it is that he means to take him somewhere, and then find out sensitive information. And Mulder capitulates because he...because he..."

"Is gay?" White said, and Scully gasped.

Scully was genuinely shocked. "Oh, no, " she said, "not Mulder. He had an affair with that Diana Fowley bi- I mean, woman, and he...well..."

"Yes, 'he well.' As in, he well could be gay. Look at you, " he said with quiet urgency. You're a woman, right? And you two have worked closely and intimately together for about seven years? And you're the prettiest woman I've ever met! You look like a '40's movie star! And has he made one little move on you? Not last week, not last year, and not last decade, I'm willing to bet."

Scully fumed. She spluttered. She withdrew her hand from his and in the end, came up with, "well, first of all, Agent White, I don't see that what transpires between us is any of your business. Second of all, Agent Mulder simply moves slowly."

"Not where this Krycek is concerned. I believe they're lovers, and I believe that's what lured Agent Mulder off into the 'trackless wilderness'."

"No!" She said. "He can't be lovers with Krycek! Krycek murdered his father and set me up to be abducted by aliens, where I was given an implant that caused my cancer! Krycek is a dangerous sociopath! He is a walking disaster, and is a one-armed one-man tornado!"

White nodded, though she could only see him dimly. "I know that. We know all that, as does Mulder, of course. But he's letting his romantic inclinations and his ...dick... get in the way. As do many men," he sighed.

"Well, it's time to be turning in -- at the Little Boy's Camp," he said laconically. Sleep tight, Agent Scully."

"OK, thanks, you too!" She said, and wriggled down into her sleeping bag. The air mattress made scooching noises as she tried to find the most comfortable spot.

Mulder gay? It was unthinkable. It was a tragedy. But it explained a lot.

***********************************************************************

Mulder and Krycek dozed in each other's embrace till about 4:00 in the morning. Krycek got up first, his eyes snapping open as though he had heard something loud. Moving around quietly, he got the horses fed, watered and saddled, gulped a handful of dried apricots and was buckling his bedroll to the saddle when Mulder awoke, stretched, and sat up.

"It's still dark out, Alex," he protested. "Why do we need to get up so early?"

Krycek looked at him. "Ah, good, you're up, you can help with the rest of the packing. The reason we're up so early is that we need to get on the road and get some miles between us and those bastards that're following us."

Mulder nodded his head. "You know, that makes sense," he said, yawning. "Do I have your permission to sleep on Goldie?"

"The horse's name is really Taggart, but you can call him Goldie; it's a much nicer name anyway. Yes, you can sleep in the saddle if you want, but you have to promise not to fall out of it! You can just throw the reins to me and I'll lead you."

"My, we're manic today!" Mulder said amusedly, leaning against a tree. "Oh yeah, I have to help. Although, listen, Alex, I did all the work last night so maybe you could give me a break?"

Krycek snorted and indicated Mulder's sleeping bag. "Pack that and I'll give you some breakfast. I might...I might even give you some sugar," he said coyly, yanking on a strap. "Um, morning breath," said Mulder uncomfortably.

"Oh, you could have used my toothbrush. Still could, if you want, but I don't care."

He went to Mulder and licked his earlobe then gave him a long, hard kiss. "There's more to come, Mulder. And we're going to a beautiful place -- well, you'll see. But we have to make really good time today. If we're not home in a reasonable amount of time our chances of being picked off the trail go up."

Mulder nodded. "OK. So Alex --" he said, grunting over his bedroll while Goldie shifted back and forth.

"Yes?"

"When you say 'picked off the trail,' do you mean what I think you mean?"

Bright green eyes looked into his. "Yes. Well, they'd kill me for sure; you would be OK unless a bullet got in between you and them. OK, lisitsa? We don't have time for a lot of talk."

Alex went over to Goldie and adjusted the sleeping bag, swearing in Russian.

Mulder chuckled. Krycek's care for him had surprised and touched him. He would do his best to try to make it up to him. If they ever got to their destination.

They finished breaking camp, Krycek smoothing out the places they had slept, "just in case," he said, "someone comes looking for us on foot." They rode down to the creek, watered the horses one last time, and filled their bottles and canteens. Then Krycek did an unexpected thing: he dismounted and began to scoop up the reddish mud in the creek bed.

"What on Earth?" Mulder asked curiously.

"You'll see. It's camouflage, Mulder. Do as I do and put some on your face and hands."

"OK." Krycek said. "Now I'm gonna ask you to do your horse. Goldie practically glows. I think I'll spare Diablo the favor."

"Uh, OK. Could you hold the flashight for me?"

"Sure, I'll come over and help you too. You want to cover the head except for eye, ear, nose and mouth area, and you want to do the neck, shoulder and rump, if we have enough paint. Can be sketchy; doesn't have to be perfect."

They stood back to admire their handiwork. "Looks pretty good," Krycek said at last. "Now let's hit the road!"

They rode for an hour through the pine forest duff, and the way was level until they began to climb in earnest. They went up a seemingly endless series of switchbacks. All was silent save for the horses' quiet footfalls, the champing of bits and the creak of saddle leather. Then Mulder began to notice the sounds of the forest: stealthy sounds like the rustling of birds or maybe chipmunks in the brush; the predatory sounds of owls and maybe mountain lions on the prowl. He shivered.

At first, for the first hour, he wondered how Krycek kept to the trail and did not deviate in either direction. He noticed that his lover sometimes shone his flashlight on the trail, as if to check that he was going in the right direction. It began to get light an hour after they started, and Krycek no longer had to do this. He glanced around him from time to time, smiling back at Mulder, a flash of light in the reddish mask of his face. Mulder smiled at him. The smile said: yes, we're in this together.

Mulder noticed that as the light grew the trees began to get thinner, but always the trail led upward, whether by switchback or by seemingly climbing straight up the mountain. They were in real redrock country now.

"They call this 'slickrock,' Mulder," Krycek called back.

"How come?"

"Because it's just rock, no grass, no dirt I guess," Krycek's voice floated back to him.

Slickrock. Well, thank God for this good trail, because to set off after that rock would be suicide.

"Who built this trail, Krycek? And where did they think they were going?" He called to him.

"Fuck if I know," Krycek said conversationally. "And call me Alex!"

As the light rose and it began to get warm, Krycek's mud dried and was flaking off in big clumps. The same thing, he noticed, was happening to Goldie, who was also sweating into his.

"Kry-Alex! Stop!" He called.

Krycek stopped immediately and looked around with concern.

"Uh, look at me. My mud is all coming off. D'ya think we could..."

"Yes, I think it's a good idea. There's a spring a couple miles ahead. We'll stop there and have something to eat, and the horses can drink."

"OK." 

Krycek clucked to his horse and they set off up the trail. A red fox carrying a kit crossed Mulder's trail almost underfoot and the horse shied. "Easy, easy Goldie," he said. He looked back to look at the fox, but she'd vanished, melted into the red rocks from whence she'd come. He shook his head in wonder. If he only had time, what manner of natural creatures and beauty might he see!

After only a day in the saddle, Mulder began to feel like a seasoned rider. So much so that --whoops, his horse shied again, at a large sort of rope this time, and he took a header into the sand along the trail.

"Hey Krycek! Stop!" he called.

He had, and was busy with the "rope". Mulder heard the report of Krycek's handgun echoing off the walls of the canyon then he ran up to Krycek. "What happened?" He began breathlessly. Krycek pointed with his gun to Goldie. 

"Get back on your horse!" He said sternly. "You must never leave your horse like that! He could run and become entangled in the reins. Now, in answer to your question, Mulder, I shot a snake." He indicated a large diamondback rattler lying beside the trail.

"OK, OK. Pretty impressive rattler, I'd say. Hey, I heard somewhere that rattlesnakes make good eating."

Krycek glared at him.

"Just kidding, just kidding!" Mulder said, and ran back to his horse. Goldie was trying to graze on some inedible-looking plant. Mulder brought his head up sharply and mounted.

"When we get up to the top of this hill," Krycek said ("hill?" thought Mulder) we'll be able to see down into the valley we must cross before we get to the mountains."

"I thought these WERE mountains!" Mulder said in disbelief. Krycek laughed and pulled his hat down further over his face.

Soon they came upon the spring, and Krycek and Mulder dismounted. "Trail mix again?" Mulder sighed. Krycek chuckled. 

"All right, I was saving it for later, but there's some beef jerky in the brown bag on Diablo. See? Color coded." but Mulder was already tearing into the jerky. He tossed half to Krycek, and together they devoured it.

Mulder washed his face and hands in the stream and scooped up mud which he plastered on his face and on Goldie. "Gee, with all these mud facials, I'm going to be gorgeous one of these days."

"You already are gorgeous," Krycek said quietly, doing his own face.

In time, Krycek glanced at his watch. "7:30. Well, basically anytime for our pursuers to show themselves in their little droning whirlybirds."

As if in response to suggestion, they heard the far-off hum of the helicopters. They looked at each other in shock then went quickly to their horses and mounted.

"OK, we're going to be trotting up this slope, Mulder, so remember: kiss ass!"

In spite of himself, Mulder grinned and set out at a jog. He couldn't see the helicopters yet and he knew that sound carried very far in this clear air, so he wasn't scared to death yet. He was just scared.

***********************************************************************

Scully awakened to one of her monthly headaches, a migraine from the location of it. She tried to sit up then fell back into bed.

"Dana! Get up! We're breaking camp!" The concerned figure of Janice Harris hove into her field of vision.

"Oh. Shit." She answered conversationally. "Janice, I have a hell of a headache, and I don't think I brought any Motrin!"

"That's OK. I'll check with the other agents. I'm sure that Agent White will have something. Don't you remember? You're going on a chopper ride with him today!"

Scully blew out air. "Me, go on a helicopter like this? I don't think so! Jan, I've got my period too, and it's pretty bad."

Harris looked at her sympathetically. "We'll get you fixed up. Don't worry!" She went whistling off in search of Agent White.

He was back in a minute, kneeling down to look at her. Scully regarded him with bleary eyes. "Agent White, I'll bet that all I can do is ride in a Jeep for a couple hours, let alone a helicopter."

White pursed his lips. "I've got just the ticket, it's back in my vehicle. Won't be a minute."

He was true to his word and came back with a bottle of white pills. She looked at them a moment. "As a physician, I would have to say that those are...some kind of narcotic. Am I right?"

"Yes, to be exact, they contain Vioxx, fioronal, Motrin, caffeine and Demerol. Good for what ails ya! Now you're not prone to motion sickness, are you? Because if you are, I have scopolamine here --" he indicated another bottle.

"Oh, just give me a whole buncha both," she said, and fell back against her "pillow," which scooched under her. White measured them out and she took them, then was persuaded by Janice to get out of bed and roll up her sleeping back and air mattress. Janice helped her load her stuff in the jeep, but she kept back her backpack. There was room in the helicopter.

At 6:30 AM the mighty Huey Cobras alighted on the rocky dirt a few yards from the edge of the arroyo. Scully stood waiting, her red hair blowing around her face, looking impassively at the big choppers. She was aware that some of these Army helicopters had tremendous ranges, and she had no doubt these two did.

The drivers conferred with Agent White for a long while, pulling out a US Geological Survey map and pointing here and there. Finally, White nodded and gave the "thumbs up" to Scully: they were good to go.

Scully ducked under the beating rotors and took a seat in the rear. White followed her and sat down beside her. "Ever been up in one of these before," he asked.

"Only when I was being rescued by one," she said wryly.

He took her point, but nodded. He handed her a pair of binoculars. "It's going to become very noisy here, so we're going to have to shout to be heard," he said. "The idea here is to look for horsemen. Now, there may be horsemen pleasure-riding or for other legitimate reasons, but if you see a horse, any horse, just bring it to my attention. Now do you remember what their horses look like?"

She nodded. "One is black, the other is ..? Palomino?"

"Yes, that's correct. But remember: any horse. Or any person on foot, for that matter. We can bring these guys pretty close to whatever target we choose."

Scully closed her mind. Target. Target. That's what Mulder had been reduced to.

She opened her eyes suddenly. "Agent White. If we shoot from that kind of altitude, we're likely to hit... anything or anyone."

He touched her hand gently. "We're hoping that won't be necessary."

Then the rotors roared into action and Scully felt herself being lifted and carried. She looked down, and saw the landscape rushing away from her. It was a dizzying sensation.

***********************************************************************

Back at the mine, there was a great hubbub. Excavating to 50 feet, the diggers had found something: the mummified corpse of an old Indian; hair, skin, eyes and clothing more or less intact. They ran a skin sample through a carbon-dating test and he turned out to be about 800 years old, so his near-perfect preservation was all the more remarkable. The agent second-in-charge to White, Agent Jennings, was an archaeologist by training and attributed the extraordinary state of the corpse to the dry desert air and the burial so far underground and out of the reach of scavengers. "I've never seen anything like this, and I'm going to publish this, if I have my way." he said to no one in particular.

Agent Dino Giordino, who was running a swatch of the buckskin jacket the man had worn through some tests, said nothing. Everyone knew the FBI never published.

"Wish I had Agent Scully, here, you know" Agent Jennings mused. "And Agent Mulder. Bet they could tell me more."

Giordino's lips pursed disapprovingly. "Sir, if I may say so, though I'm sure Agent Scully will be able to help you, once they find Agent Mulder he's headed for the loony bin, maybe for some time."

Jennings looked down at Giordino's sleek head. "Did I ever tell you, Agent Giordino, that I don't like you?"

"No, not until this moment, Sir."

***********************************************************************

At the lair of the Lone Gunmen, Langly was writing a program which would enable him to hack into the CIA's computers, Byers was watching "Star Trek: The Next Generation" and little "Froggy" Frohike was bent over his PC, muttering to himself. Langly stood up and stretched, popped his all-day sucker out of his mouth and approached Frohike. "Hey Froggy, what's up? You seem pretty serious."

"Yeah...I'm working on these data I'm getting from Mulder."

"And so? Thought we'd all seen 'em."

"We have, but we missed something. Look," he indicated the tape.

"Yes, that's definitely paranormal. It is that."

"Not that! Look at what's missing from the tape!"

Langly stuck his sucker back in and talked around it. "Mulder's 'stamp'"

"Yes, Mulder would stick a new tape in and say, 'this is Mulder, blah blah blah,' and that's missing from the tapes two days running, now.

"Byers!" Langly called. "Shut that thing off! We have a situation!"

Byers amiably obliged and took his place next to Langly.

"Look! No stamp!" Frohike said.

"Ah." Byers steepled his fingers. "And you think something has happened to Mulder? What if he simply forgot?"

The trio grew quiet, then Langly said, "No way. He put that stamp on there as a way of saying, 'I'm here and all's well.' Something's wrong, I can feel it here," he thumped his general gut area.

Byers stared at the computer screen. "Do you gentlemen have any more clues?"

Frohike blew out breath. "Well, there is this. We know their approximate position from what the satellite's given us, right? So a little while ago, when I first became suspicious, I snooped around in the databases of the Army post down that way, and what did I find?" He smiled triumphantly at his compatriots "Two Huey Cobras, to be sent out to these coordinates --" he showed them on a printout -- "this morning, 6 AM!"

Byers was unconvinced. "So these Cobras have something to do with Mulder, who might be comfortably in his bed at this moment, especially considering that it's two hours earlier there?"

"Ah geez, go along with us, OK, Byers? Since when have I been wrong?"

"Well, there was that time in 1985, when you --" began Langly, looked desultorily at the printout.

Frohike glared at him. "Whose side are you on, anyway?" He snatched the printout away.

Langly giggled and pulled his sucker out. "He's right, guys, it's gotta be all for one, one for all here!"

"OK," Byers agreed. "I'll go along with you. I'll even go WITH you, as long as it's in my van and I can watch TV while I'm not driving."

Frohike beamed. "I KNEW you'd come through! You guys are so, so great!"

"Yeah, yeah," they said. "When do we start?" Asked Byers. Frohike turned off his computer and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

"Now?"

***********************************************************************

Krycek and Mulder rode at a good clip up the side of the slickrock mountain, Mulder being jounced half to death, and they had almost reached the top when they heard the whine of the helicopters become louder and change in pitch.

Krycek looked back at Mulder. "Stop." Mulder obliged, and his horse neighed as if to thank him.

"Mulder, they're here. You'll be able to see them in a minute, and they'll be able to see you unless you stand absolutely still. That's why the mud's on the horses. You will blend in. I hope," he added.

Mulder nodded. He dismounted when Krycek did and held Goldie. He heard the helicopters flying closer and then he could see them, coming from behind the mountain. "Please, God," he heard himself saying. "Please no."

There were two of them, big Army Cobras from what he could see. They passed within half a mile of them and made a big, maddeningly slow circle back the other way.

"Ride!" Krycek yelled, "Ride!" He clucked to his horse and the animal broke into a canter. That was as fast as he dared go on the narrow trail, and looking back, he was glad to see that Mulder followed suit. Mulder, he thought, was a very fast learner.

The horses reached the crest of the slickrock and Krycek again called a halt. "Listen!" he said. The whine of the choppers could be heard, but far off. "It's OK for now. Go slowly down this hill or you'll have an accident, Mulder. When you get to the bottom, wait for my signal and we'll blow 'em out."

Mulder looked a question.

"Go really fast, as fast as the horse can go. You know, like a car. Um, and you'll need to stop when you get to the river. The Sandy River, a small tributary of the Colorado. We'll need to use care when we cross it."

They proceeded down another series of switchbacks to the valley floor. It wasn't very far, as the valley itself was at a very high elevation. Mulder had to pull Goldie up short on several occasions, as his mount wished to navigate the high, narrow trail with more enthusiasm than Mulder did.

At one point, they had to freeze and wait for the Cobras to circle over again. Nothing led them to believe they'd been seen, but they nonetheless went forward with caution.

As soon as they reached the valley floor, Krycek gave the signal and Mulder urged Goldie into a canter, then a gallop. The speed was dizzying, and Mulder was surprised his mount was so fast. The gelding gathered his hindquarters under him for spring after powerful spring. He didn't gain upon the mighty Diablo, though, who matched him stride for stride.

They reached the river in no time. Krycek demonstrated how to cross --first he dismounted, then he led Diablo across -- and Mulder imitated him.

Mulder stood shivering from the cold water. 

"You'll soon warm up, lisitsa. And remember, once we get to my home we'll have every comfort."

"Yeah, you keep saying that, but when will we get there?" Mulder asked peevishly, holding his arms across his chest and shaking.

Krycek approached him. "Soon, OK?" he said, grasped Mulder's hair and pulled Mulder to him in a deep kiss. Mulder kissed him back hungrily.

"Soon, lisa, we shall have every pleasure." He drew back. "For now, we must wash off the mud. It won't camouflage us in this forest. "

They stood at the river's edge and washed the mud, now dried to a thick crust of dirt, off themselves and the horses.

"I've got this stuff..." Krycek began, rummaged in a sack and came up with two tins. One he tossed to Mulder. 

"What's this?" Mulder said, opening it. It seemed to be some thick goopy green stuff.

"Real camouflage paint. Paint your face, then do your horse."

Mulder sighed. "Not this again."

"Yes, this again, if you want to stay alive."

"Hey! You said I'd be OK."

"Yeah, well, I say a lot of damned things!"

Mulder applied the goop to himself and Goldie. Well, they looked lovely. They didn't look like trees or bushes. They looked like green men and green horses. Krycek stood back and looked at them critically. "Your shirt," he said suddenly. "Why didn't I notice that before?" He was right. Mulder's shirt was a sort of rusty-red.

Krycek tut-tutted and looked in his luggage. Yes, there was an olive-colored shirt. "This'll do," he said, tossing the shirt to Mulder.

Mulder quickly changed and wordlessly handed his red shirt to Krycek who started to pack it away, then slashed it with a knife. Then he took the knife and approached Mulder. "Give me your hand," he commanded. Mulder shrank back. "No! What are you doing? Are you trying to kill me?" 

"No, Mulder," Krycek said patiently. "Just give me your hand."

Mulder extended his hand, trembling, and Krycek drew the knife across it. "Ow!" Mulder said. 

Krycek pressed the shredded shirt into Mulder's hand, mopping up the blood with it.

"OK." He finally said, and threw the shirt in the river.

"Why'd you do that?" Mulder said irritably. "That's a virtual red flag you're leaving, Alex. They'll know we've been here." 

"Yeah. Just wait, though. You'll see, it'll be OK." 

"Well, OK, if you say so," said Mulder doubtfully. 

They were on their way in a moment, passing at top speed again down a wide path under cottonwood and sycamore trees. They heard the whine of the Cobras coming in over the valley. "Stop!" Yelled Krycek, but Mulder had already halted.

They dismounted and stood by their mounts while the helicopters flew overhead. One passed them very close by, buzzing loudly. Mulder looked at Krycek. He had a feral, wolf-in-a-trap look on his face.

The chopper flew away to make its big circle of the valley.

"Think they saw us?" Mulder asked anxiously.

"I don't know. I don't think so, or it wouldn't have flown away," Krycek said.

They mounted their horses once again and they ran like a scirocco across the valley floor. When they reached the other side, Krycek again called a halt.

"Are you OK, Mulder," he asked anxiously. "And Goldie?"

"I'm fine; why are we stopping?"

"We're about to go up into the high elevations, up over 10,000 feet, and I wanted to make sure you were all right. Our hardest riding is ahead of us."

"I'm fine, Kry-Alex. Me and Goldie both," he said sincerely.

"I was wondering about that quarter crack, Mulder. If he starts dipping his head or limping, you know we've got trouble."

"Hell, Alex, we don't have it yet. Let's not create trouble."

"OK. Come up here a moment, Mulder." Mulder rode up to Alex's side.

Krycek urged him closer and kissed him, hard.

***********************************************************************

As the choppers buzzed the mountains and valley for the second time, Scully looked down and thought she detected movement on the slickrock. "Look!" she said to White.

He looked where she was pointing, long and hard. "It was a deer," he said quietly. She looked again and saw a tan-colored four-legged creature. "You're right," she said. "They really have good protective coloration, don't they?"

All this circling would surely have made Scully sick had she not downed her Scopolamine hours ago. The Percodan mixture had made her headache retreat from her. It was still there, but it was bearable. And her cramps were completely gone. In fact, all in all she felt rather good.

She smiled at White. You know, she thought, he really was very handsome. And so kind and solicitous. She'd never received such treatment before from any man, even Mulder. With a guilty start, she woke herself from her reverie. Poor Mulder was somewhere out there, scared, suffering, the captive of that Krycek person. If he deserved the appellation of "person."

White smiled back at her. "You've got a very stiff upper lip, Agent Scully. I really admire that. You're very brave."

She smiled. "Oh, I don't think I'm brave at all. I'm kind of a wuss!" She said.

He laughed. "Hardly! I don't think I've ever known a woman who was less of a wuss!"

She could feel a blush coming on, and she bent her head to try to hide it.

When it was over, she resumed looking out the side of the helicopter. On the third pass, we'll get 'em, she thought. We have to.

White leaned forward and spoke to the pilot, and soon they were flying over the flats again.

"Why did you do that?" She asked, irritated.

"There's a possibility they're still out there, hiding."

"Oh. I suppose." She turned to him. "I think they're in the valley. I get this image of them crossing a stream, no, a river." she put her hands to her head. "Fly back over, please!"

"Don't worry, we're headed that way!"

In a few minutes the helicopter changed course again and flew back over the valley. Scully again thought she saw something. "Wait! There's something down there!"

White leaned over, and his keen eyes raked the foliage.

"By the river!" She said.

He looked hard everywhere around the river and saw nothing but trees and brush. He was perplexed. "There! Is there a wind?"

"No, I don't think so! Why?"

"Because those trees down there are moving!" She exclaimed.

"Oh yeah? Buzz 'em!" he yelled at the pilot, who nodded.

Scully and her stomach weren't ready for this. The Cobra went into what would have been a strafing run had it been shooting. She and White looked eagerly out the windows, but they saw nothing. Nothing but a lot of green, and if they went in any closer, they'd crash.

White instructed the pilot to radio to the other Cobra with instructions to do the same thing. Their pilot prepared to go into the great circle.

***********************************************************************

"Hey, it's your turn to drive, Frohike." Byers said, half-turning in the driver's seat.

"Oh, crap," Frohike said. He'd been watching reruns of his favorite show, "Bewitched," on Byers' TV. "Pull off at the next exit and I'll take over."

Sighing, he pulled two pillows out from the sleeping Langly. "Hey," he said sleepily.

"I need 'em for the seat," he said by way of explanation. After Byers stopped, Frohike changed places with him and piled the pillows on the driver's seat. He was so short that this was the only way he could reach the wheel.

"What state are we in, anyway?" he asked Byers.

"We appear to be in Virginia," he said.

"Really? Then we haven't gotten very far."

"I believe in observing the speed limits," Byers said stiffly.

Frohike rolled his eyes. "Fine. Don't worry about it. Just watch Star Trek and rest."

"I'll do that. When do you think we should get a motel room? Or rooms?"

"When it's dark, of course," Frohike said. "You're nervous about this whole thing, aren't you?"

"Well, yes. If things are as you think, then we're driving right into a very dangerous situation."

Langly sat up. "But we're the only men for the job," he said, pushing his long blond locks off his face.

"I think so, too," said Frohike.

It was long past their lunchtime so they stopped at a truck stop a few hundred yards from the interstate. They were waited on by a cute redheaded waitress who reminded Frohike of Scully. He sighed when she left to get his order, a BLT. Byers didn't notice her: he was playing with a chess computer. Langly nudged him to get his attention. "Food, man," he said laconically, and Byers ordered a grilled cheese sandwich. Langly, the sugar freak, ordered a chocolate milkshake and apple pie a la mode.

Frohike whistled through his teeth. "You're gonna be sick as a dog."

He sat back and thought of the waitress. Redheaded. Scully. Redheaded. Scully.

"Scully!" he exclaimed, slapping the table. The others jumped.

"What about Scully?" Langly asked.

"Exactly! What about Scully? What role does she play in this? Why haven't we thought this out before?"

Byers looked up. "Well, I guess we'd just assumed she was all right."

"Yeah," Langly joined in.

"She might be in some kind of trouble too! Oh, man!" Frohike put his head in his hands. "I don't believe it!"

"Hey, there's something else, too, that you're not gonna wanna hear," said Langly, nervously tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. His eyes behind thick glasses were very intense. 

"All right, what is it?" Byers asked.

"Well, you know, we were looking at that satellite data," Langly began. "Oh, here're our orders. Mm, milkshake," he said, taking a sip. "Anyway, I noticed a waveform that's characteristic of a certain kind of cell phone, a phone that relies more on satellites than is typical. And it was made from a site about fifty miles from the mine. And it said --I happen to have the printouts with me, oh, they're in the car."

He ran out to get the papers. Frohike and Byers looked at each other over their food. "Eat, eat," said Frohike finally, and Byers, who was never hungry, took a bite of his sandwich. 

Langly came bustling back in with the papers. "Of course, the call was coded," he said, "but I just ran it through one of our standard encryption programs and this is what I got. I'm sorry, guys, for not telling you sooner, but I just forgot," he finished lamely.

He spread out the printouts. "See -- this is kind of rough but look --'am proceeding as planned. Will go fox-hunting tomorrow. Ratboy.'"

Frohike stopped eating, and looked with wide eyes at Langly. "I know only one 'Ratboy,' he said, slowly.

"Alex Krycek." said Byers, shortly.

"So, you see, that's what happened to Mulder," Langly said.

"Oh God," said Frohike. He put his head down on the table.

"This is far worse than we thought," said Byers. "Much worse."

"He needs us really bad," said Langly, swallowing the last of his milkshake and starting on the pie. Adversity did not dull his appetite.

Frohike sat up. "We've got to do something. We've got to try to help him, in any way we can. And we will help him! All for one, and one for all!"

"All for one, and one for all," they echoed.

***********************************************************************

Agent Jennings decided to send Dino Giordino "home" and to finish up what he'd started. He was completing the test for viral concentration in one of the tissue samples when a blinding white light invaded the tent. Jennings staggered and fell against a stack of boxes; he thought he'd gone blind. "Damn!" He said.

He opened his eyes, and damned if it wasn't an image of the Indian in the mine, gesturing and speaking to him. "Go away," he croaked. "You're dead."

The Indian laughed. "Oh yes, dead in your world, but not in mine."

Jennings decided that he'd fallen and hit his head. Or maybe this was a flashback to his misspent youth. "You're a figment of my imagination," he said out loud. "You're an ex-LSD trip."

"No, Agent Jennings, I am very real. Agent Mulder realized this. You must not desecrate my body and you MUST not prevent him from reaching the talisman. Call upon your leader to call off the pursuit of Agent Mulder, and the desecration, or I and others like me will bring ruin upon your people!"

He stomped upon the ground, and the earth shook.

"Please...please just go away and let me forget I ever saw you, OK?"

In answer the Indian pointed upward, and immediately there was a great sluicing rain. FBI agents began running about like ants whose hill has been disturbed. There were shouts to cover the entrance to the mine and the Kirlian machine, and in a moment a tremendous wind arose and his tent and everything in it was history.

He looked around wildly but the Indian was gone. Now who was going to believe it? 

Oh, the Kirlian equipment at the camp! And in Park City! And, he wondered, battling fierce winds and piercing-cold rain in his run down to the camp, had any of that been recorded? Not that he would have believed it before he received his unearthly visitor, but he did now. And what of Agent Mulder? Was he at this moment huddled under some rocky outcrop, being pummeled by the wind and rain?

He sprinted the last hundred yards to the camp and saw that someone had gotten the Kirlian equipment under a tent. Good! That left one more installation. He ran all the way to Park City, getting more than thoroughly soaked but hardly noticing it. Once there, he grabbed the machine and placed it carefully inside one of the houses. The house was leaking, but it was not dripping onto the machine. "Am I the only one on this mission with a brain?" he said out loud. The building creaked in the wind, seeming to laugh at him.

About fifteen minutes later, the storm passed. Jennings looked up into the sky and saw the clouds rapidly receding. They were going east at a rate too fast to be natural. "Wonder who they're gonna get next?" He wondered. "Skinner?" This struck him as so funny he laughed so hard he could hardly stand.

***********************************************************************

Krycek and Mulder mounted their horses and started the climb up Mount Nizhoni. Mulder looked around. The country was different over here. The rocks were grey and white, limestone or shale, he guessed. All the rock around here was sedimentary in origin, he knew that from college geology. 

The path was so steep that the horses could travel no faster than a walk, and so narrow they had to travel single file again. Ahead of him, Diablo's powerful hindquarters bunched and surged. Goldie tried gamely, but could not seem to keep up with him, even at Mulder's urging. He seemed to favor his right hind leg, and his walk, once smooth, had a broken rhythm. Mulder stopped him.

"Krycek! Stop!" He called.

Krycek stopped and turned around. Then he saw Goldie holding his hind leg up, and he blanched under his camouflage. He dismounted and then they heard the helicopters. "Damn, goddamn motherfuckin' hell!" he swore absently.

Mulder looked up. Krycek said, "There are enough trees here for cover. Dismount, lead your horse right there," he directed, and Mulder did as he was told.

The choppers broke rank at one point and one came down pretty close, buzzing them. The horses spooked, and it was all Krycek and Mulder could do to hold them.

"If it weren't for these trees," Krycek said grimly, "I'd say that they saw us."

"But they didn't come back," Mulder said.

"Oh, they will."

He was right; in a moment the other chopper buzzed them.

"They must have a good idea that we're right here," Mulder said thoughtfully, after the horses calmed down.

"Just hold your position. They don't know for sure."

The helicopters whined off into the distance.

"I'm gonna have to chance a fire," Krycek said.

"But why? Why draw them to us?"

"It'll be a very small fire. I have to doctor that hoof. Help me find kindling"

They found small bits of wood and bark and soon had a little fire going.

"Now, look!" Krycek said. He cut into one of the sugar pines with a wicked-looking knife and sap dribbled out. He collected about an ounce in a tin cup and put the cup over the fire. Mulder was consumed with curiosity.

Krycek removed his shirt and used the scissors on his Swiss Army knife to cut it into strips. Then, when he deemed the pine pitch to be warm enough, he extinguished the fire, kicking dirt over it, then went over to Goldie. "Hold him," he warned Mulder. "I don't want to get kicked."

Sidling close against Goldie's hindquarter, he ran his hand down the leg and the horse lifted it.

"Neat trick," Mulder observed.

Krycek held the leg between his knees as he poured the warm pitch into the crack. Then he bound the hoof with strips of his shirt.

"That's amazing!" Mulder said. Krycek smiled.

"Now, you won't be able to ride him in this condition so I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll transfer some of the baggage to Diablo, I will place a blanket on the cantle of the saddle -- that's the back part," he said, patting it, " and you will ride up behind me. Diablo's incredibly strong and it will not hurt him to carry two men."

"OK," Mulder said, nodding.

They worked very quickly to transfer some of the heavier baggage. Krycek stood back and looked at his handiwork. "Rope," he said, softly. "I think I may have some." He looked in a bag and found a 30-foot length. "Great!" he said softly and fastened it to Goldie's saddle horn, and then to Diablo's. "That should do it!"

While they were working the helicopters passed overhead but they didn't come close.

"Must think we're somewhere else now," Mulder observed.

"Yeah, no shit! Now, Mulder, you get on Diablo first, then slide back till you're sitting up against the cantle. Then I'll mount."

Diablo was taller than Goldie but Mulder managed to get on without too much difficulty. Krycek mounted with incredible grace, considering the fact that he had only one arm. That really didn't seem to slow him down at all.

"Now, Mulder sit close to me and hold me tightly around the waist --yes, that's right. OK, we're off!"

Mulder found that sitting in this position, groin to the small of Krycek's back and arms around his sweaty naked waist highly erotic, and his cock began to stir. Krycek chuckled.

"In good time, Mulder, in good time!"

Mulder responded by kissing and then laying his head against Krycek's back. He inhaled his scent, an intoxicating mix of sweat, cologne, woodsmoke and horse.

Despite the steep ascent, they made good time and the helicopters did not bother them. As they neared the summit, Mulder preferred not to look down, clinging to Krycek's back and closing his eyes. 

The trail became extremely narrow and full of roll-y little rocks, but Diablo never put a foot wrong. "He's half Arab and half Quarter Horse," Krycek explained. Both parents were great race horses, and he's got the best of both breeds. Poor Goldie has similar ancestry. You'll notice that Goldie resembles the Quarter Horse, whereas Diablo is more like a tall, muscular Arab."

"They're both very beautiful," Mulder said. "And I'm happy for the opportunity to ride them!"

"Thanks, Mulder. That was a nice thing to say!"

They crested the ridge and looked down into the most beautiful valley Mulder had ever seen. "Oh. My. God." He said. There was forest; there were fields and orchards and way down at the other end, some tiny buildings.

"This is it." Krycek said. "This is the real Hidden Valley." Suddenly he cocked his head. "What's that?"

Mulder's heart fell into his shoes. Krycek looked wildly around for some trees. "Jesus Christ, caught here on this ridge with no trees..."

There was a stand of pines a little way down the trail, and they quickly made their way to them. "Get off!" Krycek hissed. "And get down!" 

Mulder did as he was told. The helicopters stayed down in the previous valley. "Ha! They still think we're down there!" He crowed.

"Maybe so," Krycek said cautiously.

Suddenly Mulder knew. "The shirt! They've found the shirt! They think we're dead!" He began to hop around. "They found the shirt, they found the shirt!" he chanted. 

Krycek smiled wanly. "Well, it'll hold 'em off for awhile. When they find a place to land and hike in there, or when they send some guy down with a ladder, they'll get the shirt and eventually they'll figure out it was cut by a knife. Although," he said thoughtfully, "with your blood on it, even if only a little, they might overlook that fact."

"Oh, you wanted them to think that I fell into the river and was banged around by the rocks and all?" Mulder asked. "Duh, I guess, huh?"

Krycek smiled. "Yeah, duh. Now, Mulder, we make the great descent!"

They were much more cheerful on the way down, bantering, singing "100 bottles of beer on the wall," and by the time they got through the third repetition, they were down.

They proceeded at a walk. First they encountered more forest; pines and firs, then vast fields of corn and hay and Mulder knew not what. Finally, after about two hours, they made their way to the farmhouse. It was a long, low rambling structure made of sandstone. "It's beautiful, Alex. This is yours?"

Krycek chuckled. "Mine to use as I see fit. Wait'll you see the inside."

"Are there others living here?"

"There's a caretaker and a few farm hands, living in the outbuildings. They won't bother us. They've been well-trained."

By whom? Mulder wondered.

As they neared the house, Krycek called a halt. "Dismount time," he said. He got off his horse gracefully and Mulder essentially slid off in a boneless lump. "Oof." he said

Krycek whistled and magically a young man appeared seemingly from nowhere. "Yes, Mr. Krycek?"

"Dan, take these horses, unpack, take off their tack, clean them, groom them and place them in adjacent paddocks. And get the vet for that off right hoof on Goldie"

Mulder could swear that the young man, who seemed to find nothing at all odd in seeing two green men and two green horses, BOWED, and he took the reins and led the horses away.

"Wow!" Mulder said. "You have SERVANTS?"

Krycek went up to what looked like the front door of the place, a heavy oak one, and pushed it ajar.

"You don't lock your doors?" Mulder asked.

Krycek looked at him and smiled. "Oh no, there is no need. Come in, come in!"

Mulder approached hesitantly. "Wow!" He said softly, again.

He was standing in a foyer. Under his feet were great flagstones of limestone; he was looking at a spectacular full-length stained glass window depicting the temptation of Christ, or something awfully like it; enormous paintings of Southern Utah hung on the walls, which were oak; above him a chandelier sparkled, and above that, a skylight admitted the early-afternoon light. 

"Breathe, Mulder, breathe!" laughed Krycek. He took Mulder's hand and led him through the house.

"The main house, which is where we'll be staying, has ten bedrooms, nine full baths," he said breezily, "two kitchens, four pantries, three dining rooms, three living rooms, two dens. Here is the kitchen/dining area where we'll take our meals; here's a bedroom and here's another. Here's our bedroom, Mulder. It's the master bedroom. See, it has two views of the mountains and a king-size waterbed. You do like waterbeds?"

Mulder laughed. "Well, yeah, I have one at home..."

"Well, great. Here's the main living room. Notice the hardwood floors everywhere, and that's a real bearskin. Fireplaces in every bedroom and in here," he said brightly.

"You sound like a real estate salesman," Mulder said.

"Well, in a sense, I am, Mulder," Krycek said. "I want you to stay, Mulder...Well..."

Mulder gave his hand a squeeze.

"There are bathrooms everywhere, and here's where we'll have a bath and wash off all the greasepaint, mud, sweat, road dirt... What do you say?"

Mulder smiled. "I think I need a nap, but yes, I absolutely have to get clean first! Uh, is that Dan likely to walk in on us?"

"Oh, not a chance. He'll do the horses then probably go get the vet."

"The vet? You have a vet?" Mulder asked in amazement.

"Well, yes, he's retired and thought this would be a nice place to retire to. They pay him a nice stipend plus his room and board."

"They?" asked Mulder idly.

"The people who own the ranch," said Krycek.

Mulder decided not to pursue it. At Krycek's invitation, he stripped off his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the bathroom's terracotta tile floor; and Krycek did the same. They embraced, and kissed long and deeply. Mulder could feel himself rising to the occasion, and as for Krycek, he had already risen.

"Ah -- Let's turn on the water."

"Something else is already turned on," Mulder observed drily.

While the water was running into the tub, they sat on the tiled edge and kissed and stroked. Krycek glanced at the tub. "It's at jacuzzi level," he said, and turned on the jets. Then he went over to the vast cabinet and selected an herbal shower gel. 

"Did you know that this stuff costs $150 a bottle?"

"No shit! For shower gel?"

"Well, it's the best money can buy," he said, and poured some into the tub. Immediately large amounts of fluffy bubbles formed.

"Time to get in," he said. He stepped in, then Mulder. The jacuzzi was huge and would have accomodated four comfortably. Mulder sat on the ledge and let the jets of water pummel him. "That feels so good," he said simply.

Krycek poured some of the shower gel onto a washcloth. "Time to scrub," he said. Mulder took the cloth and rubbed his face and hands till he was pretty sure he had gotten off the greasepaint and mud.

"Missed a spot," Krycek said, and rubbed under Mulder's nose. "OK, I think you got it."

He produced another washcloth and scrubbed his own face. Then he poured some of the shower gel onto a puff. "Turn around," he instructed Mulder.

He scrubbed Mulder's back till the skin felt incredibly smooth. "OK, turn around again." This time he did his chest, making sure he made delicate little whorls around the nipples, and abdomen.

"Sit up on this higher step now," he instructed Mulder. He did, and Krycek sponged his cock very gently. "I think," he said, "I'm gonna suck you off, now, Mulder. Just sit tight."

"Hey, no problem," murmured Mulder, and spread his legs.

Krycek ducked his head under the water and licked his bud. Mulder gasped. Krycek rimmed him, licking and sucking, sticking his tongue inside. Mulder moaned. No one had ever done that to him before, and it felt like heaven. When Krycek came up for air, Mulder grasped him by the hair and pulled him toward him adoringly for a kiss. Then down he went again to lick and suck Mulder's balls, and up to suck just the head of his cock.

"Uh, uh," Mulder stuttered.

"Yes? Say it, Mulder. Tell me what you want," Krycek said, a wicked look in his emerald eyes.

"All of it. Suck all of it, Alex, please, oh please."

Krycek swallowed Mulder's cock to the root. "Like this, hmm, Mulder? Like this?"

"Oh, keep on -- don't stop. Oh, Alex, I'm gonna come."

By his fifth suck, Mulder screamed his name and shot hot liquid down Krycek's throat.

Alex gently licked him off and then kissed him so Mulder could taste himself.

"My turn," Krycek said. "You wanna suck me, Mulder, or do you want me to fuck you?"

"I wanna suck you, babe!"

Alex moved himself to the higher ledge. He took his huge throbbing erection in hand and gave himself a few proprietary strokes. "Want this, huh, Mulder? Well, come and get it!" Mulder ducked under the water as Krycek had and rimmed him in turn. "Oh. God." Krycek said tightly.

"Here, I have an idea," Mulder said. "Why don't you sit sideways and that way this jet can get you right in your beautiful ass while I suck you off?"

"Sounds great." Krycek arranged himself on the step and looked at Mulder, who looked back solemnly and dove for Krycek's cock. He wasn't as experienced as Krycek, but he more than made up for that in sincerity and sensitivity. He sucked Krycek from the root to the tip and Krycek soon began to feel himself bubbling over.

"I think..ah...I think I LOVE YOU MULDER!" he screamed as he came, shooting hot sticky liquid down Mulder's throat. Mulder cleaned him off with his tongue and kissed him, hard.

So! Krycek loved him. Mulder looked at him through drowsy, droopy eyes and loved him, too.

"You're beautiful, Mulder. You know you're the handsomest man I've ever known."

"You must know a pack of dogs, then!" Mulder laughed. "You, Alex Krycek, are the most gorgeous man I'VE ever known."

Krycek smiled sadly. "Not anymore," he said, indicating his arm.

"That doesn't matter! Here!" Mulder pulled Krycek beside him, and began to kiss what was left of his poor arm. Krycek laughed. "You really don't need to..."

"Yes, I do need to. Alex, I love you. Just the way you are. Can you understand that?"

Krycek nodded slowly. "I'm trying. God, Mulder."

"Yeah?"

"The stuff we've been through together over the last couple of days...Un-fucking-believable!"

"I know. We should write a short story about it, huh?"

Krycek laughed. "We should, shouldn't we?" He lay back in the bath and let the jets of water wash over him. Mulder did the same. "Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"We can stay here forever, you and I. The world can't touch us," he said.

Krycek smiled sadly. "Would that were true, " he said. "Oh, it will be true for a while. But the world has a way of intruding."

"Well, let's not think about it for now."

"OK. Pass the puff and the shower gel, please. I think I've still got mud on my back."

"Oh, here, let me help you with that, Alex."

They stayed in the bath for an hour, and then the rumblings in their stomachs told them it was time to eat.

***********************************************************************

It was 11:00 AM, and it was time for the searchers in the choppers to regroup. They flew out into the desert flats and alighted on the ground, groaning and stretching. Scully stood staring bleakly at a nearby rock formation, not really seeing it, while White conferred with the pilots and co-pilots, spreading out a geological survey map on a large flat rock. She was wearing jeans and a sweater and thought idly that today would be a hot one. Finally White came over to her. "Agent Scully, we're taking a break. I've got some food and drinks packed in a cooler. Would you like a sandwich and a Coke? Perhaps a beer?" She looked at him and smiled wanly.

"A sandwich and a Coke for me, please."

She sat on a rock and waited passively for him to return with the food.

"Here we are," he said. She stood up and took the proffered sandwich and Coke. 

"Thank you very much," she said automatically.

He took a bite of ham sandwich, chewed and swallowed. "I got you avocado and cheese," he said helpfully. She looked down at her sandwich. "Thanks," she said listlessly.

"Something's the matter, isn't it?" he asked quietly. "The search not going well? Is that what has you down?"

She looked at him. "I know they crossed that river. Searching anywhere else, unless it's on the other side of the river, is just pointless."

"How do you know this?" he asked gently.

"Well, Mulder and I have this..this psychic bond. I don't know how else to explain it. We each know when the other is in trouble." she spread her hands out wordlessly.

"I'm aware that such things exist," he said, taking a drink of soda. "Come on, try your sandwich."

"OK." She took a bite obediently, chewed and swallowed with difficulty. "You know what the odd thing is, though? I'm getting this...this feeling that he's gonna be all right. How that could be, I have no idea."

White had been listening to her with interest. "OK." He said. "We'll resume the search along the river. If there's a suitable landing place anywhere around, we'll find it. We'll just take one chopper. There's enough room for two more people." He arose and walked briskly to the pilots and told them the news. One of them laughed and then he and his co-pilot strolled to their chopper and got in. The rotors roared into action and then the Cobra was up and gone.

White returned to her. "Come, bring your food. We're boarding now."

***********************************************************************

After the rain subsided, Jennings slogged through the red mud and strolled into camp looking like a horror-monster. He was covered from head to foot with the mud, soaked through, and his eyes were wild. He spotted his minion and barked, "Giordini! What the hell are you doing?" "Uh, on my way to help the other agents clear out the road, sir," Giordini said, as obsequiously as he could.

"Well, they don't need you and I do! Come with me right now!"

Giordini looked backwards. "Uh. Yes, sir," and dropped his shovel.

"Fuckin' shovels!" Jennings snorted. "You need a backhoe for that job!"

"Well, sir," Giordini said, trying to move his short legs fast enough to catch up with Jennings' long ones, "we don't have a backhoe!" (And what's got into the old man, anyway? He's really a lot weirder even than usual!)

The "old man" was on his way to the mine. "Can't you go any faster?"

"Uh, no, sir, I can't. I'm doing my best, sir."

"You don't have to call me 'sir'! We're all in this together!"

"Uh, OK, sir. I mean, Agent Jennings."

"That's better!"

They reached the first tent by the mine and looked inside expectantly. "Hey!" said Jennings. "Hey! Where is it? Where is it?" He looked around wildly.

"What? What?" cried Giordini.

Jennings looked down his long nose at him and pushed up his glasses. "The INDIAN, you idiot! Where did it go?"

They rushed around from tent to tent, thinking someone had hidden the body. No go.

"We can try the mine, you know, Agent Jennings. And you don't have to treat me like that and cal me an idiot!" Jennings looked at him with exasperation. The fact that this guy had graduated from the Academy was completely incomprehensible to him. 

But hey, he did have the odd good idea. They set off at a jog for the mine, shoes sticking and squelching in the mud. They ran to the opening and looked in.

"Fuck and motherfuck," Jennings said conversationally. Giordini gasped. The shaft which had been excavated down to 50 feet was now completely filled in with dirt. Jennings kicked at one of the timbers. "Betcha that old Indian's down there."

"Who put him there?"

"Ah, my friend, " Jennings said, laying a finger beside his nose conspiratorially, "he did."

Oh, now he'd heard everything, Giordini thought. The old man's loose screw had finally clattered to the bottom of his brain cage. "Uh," he said, noncommittally. And "Oh."

He backed out of the mine. "Well, someone put him there, and what happened last night, that vision I had..." Jennings was continuing in his ranting. Giordini ran determinedly down the slope, stick squelch "Ouch!", as he hit a rock. No way was he going to listen to any more of that crap. The old man had turned the wrong way at the crossroads of sanity. He, Giordini, would report him to White as soon as he got back. Probably earn a commendation, he thought proudly, and then, "oof!" he landed, splat, face down in the mud. Now I look like Mr. Horror-Monster himself, he thought, which pissed him off. They were probably missing him at the road, just a hundred yards of mud but boy, was that bound to be a lot of work. Maybe he could sneak into the showers without being seen.

***********************************************************************

Langly nudged Frohike awake. "Rise and shine, little one!"

Frohike groaned. "What day is it, what time is it, and what state is it?"

Langly pulled an all-day sucker out of his mouth. "Well," he said, "judging by that clock radio and my watch, it's 5:00 AM; judging by the calendar, it's Tuesday, July 12, and judging by the fact that all we get are St. Louis stations on this TV, we are either in Illinois or Missouri."

"Missouri," said Byers mildly. "You don't remember the golden arch, Frohike?"

Frohike grunted from his bed. It was hard, and now he had a backache. "McDonald's? It gave me heartburn."

Byers sighed. He approached the bed, impeccably dressed and groomed as usual. "You'll wish to take a shower, I'm sure. Please hurry. We are both ready."

"Already," Langly chimed in. The sucker went back in and he stalked over to his laptop, which he'd plugged into the hotel phone line.

Frohike groaned again getting up and staggered into the shower. Finally, he was ready.

"Frohike, you must simply learn to be more punctual." Byers chided.

"I know," said Langly, "his punctualation leaves something to be desired. Periods and question marks."

"Now, now, mind your P's and Q's," Byers said. 

They piled into the van. It was Langly's turn to drive. Frohike rode shotgun while Byers played with his laptop.

The miles rolled by uneventfully, except when Langly thought he could outpace a "rice burner" Kawasaki motorcycle with red racing stripes and hell-bent-for-leather rider.

"Langly, what are you doing?" Byers asked, a note of strain in his voice. "Langly, you can't do that!" "Langly, cease and desist!" Finally Langly was persuaded to give up this pursuit and he settled back into more-or-less normal driving.

At three hundred miles, Byers asked him how he was doing. "Fine!" Langly enthused. "I can drive through Kansas, at least." 

"Well, OK, if you're sure!"

Langly said, "hey guys, what say we drive the rest of the way through, each one spelling the others for several hours at a time? I'm getting the feeling that we ought to be sooner rather than later."

"That's fine, I guess," Frohike said.

"Yes," said Byers without enthusiasm. "I guess it could work."

"OK, then it's settled!" Langly said happily.

"Hey guys," Frohike said.

"Yeah?" "Yes?"

"You know, we really haven't thought this thing through at all well. For one thing, we don't have any weapons. We're gonna walk into Krycek's stronghold and shoot him with our laptops? Our cell phones?"

Byers said nothing, but Langly was more optimistic. "We can get him OUTSIDE his stronghold, and then we can -- we can --" he waved his sucker around, looking for the right words.

"We can what?" Frohike said. "Stick him to death with sucker goo?"

They collapsed in laughter. "OK," said Langly, "how about this idea: a Trojan horse."

Silence. "Who or what do you propose to send in as the horse?" Asked Byers.

"Well, actually," Langly turned around in his seat and narrowly avoided colliding with a semi, which tooted its air horn at him. "Actually, YOU, Byers!"

Frohike snorted with laughter. "On what basis?"

"Well, now, listen," Langly said. "Krycek is gay, right?"

Silence. Unfriendly, threatened silence. "Well, I have it on good authority that he is. Hey! He probably has Mulder up there in his little love nest!"

"And you want me as a decoy," Byers said stiffly, "because you think I am gay?"

"No, no, don't be sensitive, Byers! I want you as the decoy because you are good-looking! It wouldn't work if either one of us went up there to try to seduce him or whatever, would it?"

"Now you want me to seduce him."

Langly gestured with his sucker, exasperated. "No, I don't. I just want you to be the one to carry the bomb."

Silence dripping with shock.

"You have a bomb?" Frohike squeaked.

"No, I have a daffodil." Langly said. "Yes, I have a bomb. It's in back. Don't worry, it's not set to detonate," he said, as Byers squeezed to the front of the van as far as he possibly could.

"How-- how long--" Frohike stammered.

"Oh, I made it when I was a very young little sprat. Learned how from the Internet, you know."

"GOD." said Byers. "You mean it's been hanging around our house --"

"For years, yes," Langly said blithely. "And now, I propose to blow up Krycek with it."

"How do you propose to blow up Krycek without blowing up Mulder? Or yourself? Or me?" asked Byers gloomily.

"Oh, I haven't got that worked out yet."

***********************************************************************

Krycek and Mulder, having dried off with thick thirsty white terry towels and dressed in his 'n' his white terrycloth robes, approached the big oak table in the main dining hall. The table was longer than his living room and it was set for them with a number of items in chafing dishes. Mulder was speechless.

Mulder noticed that the table had one setting at each end, and he wordlessly brought his setting around to Krycek's. Krycek smiled at him brilliantly and Mulder noticed again what a beautiful man he was. "I love you, again," he said, and kissed his lover. "I love you too, again," murmured Krycek.

"Now, let's look at what they've brought us!" he said, "It's always good, Mulder."

In a moment they had heaped their plates high with breakfast foods, those being what Krycek liked at lunchtime: Eggs Benedict, melon wrapped with prosciuotto, thick-cut bacon and fresh blueberry muffins, and had poured mimosas "made with the best champagne and fresh-squeezed OJ, Mulder!"

"Eat, Mulder! You must be very hungry after a couple of days of a few handfuls of trail mix!" Krycek said, and dug into his food.

When Mulder finished, he asked hesitantly, "Should I take the plates..."

Krycek laughed. "Oh, no, Mulder, that's what servants are for! To be at your beck and call and anticipate your every need!"

As if by magic, Dan the horseboy and evidently general factotum appeared to take Mulder's plates. He did retain his glass because he wanted another excellent mimosa. He had it, and then another...and then possibly another... and then he dimly remembered being guided from the room by Krycek, whom he was leaning rather heavily upon, and taken to the master bedroom, and tucked into bed. Krycek moved about the room checking to see that toothpaste, toothbrush, dental floss, shampoo, shower gel, soap, razor, shaving cream, conditioner, hair gel, hair dryer were all laid out for Mulder, then pulled the heavy brocade drapes and climbed into bed alongside Mulder. "Night-night, Mulder," he said, and then Mulder slept.

Mulder dreamed that he was standing on one side of a chasm, and Scully on the other. As he stood, the walls began to move apart, so that she became more and more distant. The expression on her face, however, a grave and sorrowful one, never changed. Finally she mouthed -- what was she saying? "I love you, Mulder!"

And then he was being gently shaken awake, and "I love you, Mulder!" spoken in his ear by soft lips, and he turned to see Krycek, who kissed him. Mulder got up. "I love you too, Krycek, but I haven't brushed my teeth in a couple or three days and I need to... Wow, thanks, Alex, all this stuff... Wow, thanks!"

"It's the least I can do for you, lisitsa!" Krycek said gently. Mulder brushed away at his teeth. "What's that mean -- 'Lisitsa'?"

"Oh, it's just a term of endearment."

"Oh, and it's Russian, I assume?"

"Sure. What else would it be?" Krycek smiled. "Now I can really kiss you!" and he did.

"So why'd ya wake me up like that," he asked, when he could breathe.

"Well, you appeared to be having a nightmare."

"I kind of was, I guess," he said thoughtfully. "It involved Scully."

Krycek scowled, his dark brows slanting together.

"Now don't make a face at me, sweetheart," Mulder said. "It was only a dream!" 

Krycek appeared to consider this for a moment, then nodded. "I know a way to make you forget, lisa," he said, and leaned down and kissed Mulder so hard and deep it made him weak. Mulder grasped Krycek's head by the hair and kissed him back. Their tongues met inside their mouths, tasting, licking, touching, exploring.

Mulder came up for air. "I need you down there, sweetheart!" he said.

"Oh? And what do you mean by 'down there?'" 

"Oh, you know. I need you to suck my cock."

"You do, eh?" Krycek grinned wickedly. "Stay right there!" He commanded Mulder.

Mulder obliged, writhing on the bed in anticipation of what his lover might have in store for him.

Krycek arrived with handcuffs and without preamble, cuffed Mulder to the bed.

"Hey..." said Mulder. His legs were free but his hands were caught fast to the bedposts.

"The better to lick you, lisa," Krycek purred, shed his robe and knelt between Mulder's legs. At the first touch of his lips Mulder came, yelling "Alex!" and spurting all over Krycek's face.

"Hey," Krycek said, "that's pretty sexy, lisitsa. I love it when you come on my face. And now you get to lick it off." He bent his face towards Mulder's and Mulder eagerly obliged, licking his own come off of Krycek's face.

"How does it taste, hmm? I think you taste wonderful. See if you like it."

"Yes -- oh yes! Alex, fuck my face! Fuck my face, Alex!"

"Well, since you put it that way..." Krycek knelt between Mulder's shoulders, placing his cock against Mulder's mouth. "Swallow it, lisa. Take it all."

Mulder eagerly lipped then swallowed Krycek's cock, sucking hard. Krycek sighed and then began to thrust into Mulder's mouth. "Tell me if I'm choking you, baby. I don't want to hurt you," he said gently.

"Oh, no, it's great!" Mulder said, but it came out, "Ohblubblahblay!" Krycek got his meaning then began to thrust faster until his orgasm was imminent, then pulled out and came all over Mulder's face, screaming his name. Astoundingly, this caused Mulder to come again, shooting semen halfway across the room.

Krycek collapsed on top of Mulder. "Un-fucking-believable!" He said. "Mulder, you're incredibly virile. Oh Mulder, I love you."

"I love you too, Alex. Now could you get these handcuffs off?"

***********************************************************************

Up in the Cobra, Scully chewed her sandwich, swigged her Coke and looked with fading hope down at the moving countryside below. She didn't really expect to find anything, yet...what was that?"

"Mm," she said, around a mouthful of avocado and cheese sandwich, pointing to a spot near the river.

"What do you see?" Asked White quickly.

"Mm," she swallowed hard. "It looks like something caught on that rock down there. It's red. Mulder was wearing a red shirt!"

White immediately yelled at the pilot, pointing down to the river. "...Do you think you can land somewhere around here?"

The pilot said something back. "OK!" White said "Set 'er down over there!"

The chopper banked hard to the left. Ahead of them, Scully saw a small clearing in the forest. "Perfect!" she crowed.

The pilot landed the helicopter with great care in the clearing and wiped sweat off his brow. He cut the engines and the blades beat more slowly, then not at all. "OK, here it is, here's the place. You'll have to hike about half a mile to the river, though."

Scully was out of the chopper and running, dropping her sandwich and Coke, White close behind her. "Scully, take it easy!" he called.

"I think it's this way," she called back, breathlessly. She dodged through trees and ran always toward the goal: the red shirt.

Once she fell on her face, tripping over a tree root, but she was up and running again. She even outpaced White because she was reckless and he was not. When she arrived at the site, she yanked the shirt off the boulder and held it with trembling hands until White got there.

He took it from her gently. "This is Mulder's shirt?"

She nodded wordlessly. He examined it. He knew, but would not tell her, that the rips in the fabric looked like they were made by a knife, and that the bloodstains were not consistent with being battered on the rocks or slashed with that knife. He knew, in fact, that Alex Krycek was fucking with him, and he didn't like it. But he also knew that he and Mulder could recover the talisman, an object of inestimable value. He had to get it back to the camp. For the time being, he had to let them be.

"I'm sorry, Agent Scully," he said, putting an arm around her. To his surprise, she leaned against him. "I'm really sorry."

They were silent on the hike back to the quiet, waiting chopper. When the pilot saw them coming, he started up the engines. Scully and White ducked under the blades. 

"What'd you see?" Asked the pilot. "Find anything?" White wordlessly held up the shirt. 

"Dead, huh?" the pilot asked sympathetically.

"Look," White said, "Take the rest of the day off. God knows you've earned it. Tomorrow we'll begin the search for Mulder's body. We'll look downstream."

He felt rather than saw Scully flinch. He turned to her and squeezed her arm. "Hard day, wasn't it? When you get back to camp take a hot shower and go to bed. Take a Valium."

"Haven't got any," she said thickly.

"A physician, no Valium?" He smiled at her. "Look, I'll get you some from the medical supplies. You need to relax and you need to sleep."

Scully looked up into his compassionate face and her eyes began to leak, just a little at first then in torrents. Her nose ran and her face turned red.

"I'b sorry," she sobbed, "I'b sorry to cry in frud ob you like this!"

White handed her a handkerchief. "Please, please don't apologize! What you're doing is natural and normal. As I've said before, Scully, you are the most stiff-upper-lip-keeping woman I've ever known. It's normal to cry."

Scully sobbed into the tissue for a while and gradually the sobs lessened, and she got the hiccups. 

"Here, Scully, you can have the rest of my mineral water," white said, and Scully gladly accepted it.

When the Cobra touched down at camp it was a subdued Scully and a concerned White who alighted. White steered her in the direction of the supplies tent, went in, unlocked a box and counted out 10 Valium into a pill bottle. He pressed this into one cold little hand and told her to take one for sleep. "Yeah, I know," she said miserably and walked to her tent.

White felt guilty and bad for concealing the truth from Scully, but sometimes these things just needed to be done. Sighing, he walked to his tent.

***********************************************************************

In a tent in the next row over, three down, Agent Jennings was regaling his cohort with tales of his visions.

"And then I saw the Indian, and he said to me -- Giordino, are you listening?"

"Yes, Boss." Good thing he was staring at the WALL, for Christ's sake, so that the animal in the bunk next to his couldn't read his facial expressions. Jennings had been difficult before but ever since his "vision" he had become impossible: a raving lunatic. Giordini thought he was probably committable.

He head the sound of a helicopter touching down and decided to slip out and talk to Agent White. He stood up and quietly went outside. He walked over to the chopper and watched Agents White and Scully alight, ducking under the spinning blades. Boy, that Scully. She had looks, nerve and class, he thought. AND, she was just the right shape, and just the right size.

"Agent White," he called. White looked in his direction. "Um, my name is Giordini. I came in with the second batch of workers. I need to talk to you about something, sir," he finished up breathlessly.

"Sure, Agent Giordini, what seems to be troubling you?"

Giordini walked alongside White, who considerately kept the pace slow so Giordini wouldn't have to run to keep up with him. 

"He's crazy!" The smaller man blurted out.

"Who's crazy?"

"Agent Jennings, the archaeologist. My boss. Said he had a vision of an Indian, the same Indian who died 800 years ago, and this guy told him that he'd better find the "talisman," or he'd bring down ruin upon our people, and then he sent the squall."

Agent White's eyebrows lifted higher and higher as the account lengthened and lengthened. When Giordini had finished with his litany of wrongs, White assured him that the matter would receive his immediate attention. 

And it did. He ran back to Jennings' tent and burst through the door. "OK, Agent Jennings. What's all this stuff about Indians and talismans?"

Jennings was reading a book. "Ssh." he said, looking up. "I'm translating from the German."

"You'll be translating from the prison if you don't answer me," White said genially. He sat down on the bed and looked at Jennings, his chin cupped in his hand. "OK, now tell me all about this Indian stuff."

"I was running tissue samples on the Indian we dug up, and all of a sudden there was this bright white light and the Indian appeared to me in a vision. He told me that the talisman must be returned or we will be nixed. Nullified. Then he caused a sudden storm to come up out of nowhere, and everyone got drenched and muddy and some expensive equipment was ruined. Later," he said, "I had a dream. The Indian came to me again and told me that only The One could handle the talisman. He showed me The One, and damned if he didn't look like Scully's partner, the one who was abducted. . ." he trailed off.

White could barely contain his excitement. "Thank you!" he said, and clapped a surprised Jennings on the back, speeding through the tent.

"No, wait, there's more!" Jennings exclaimed.

White ducked his head in through the window. "What?"

"The body -- it ended up burying itself up in the mine again! And no one's been able to dig it out!"

"Jesus Christ!" White swore, and left.

So! The One was Mulder after all, just as he'd thought. Now perhaps he had done the right thing. Now perhaps he could sleep at night...

Except for Scully. He had done her wrong, there was no doubt of that, and he might well carry his bitter secret to the grave with him. He glanced up at the sky, which was dark and lowering and preparing for rain. It might not be so long from now after all.

***********************************************************************

Frohike awoke with a start when his head bumped against the side of the van. "What state are we in?" he asked, predictably.

"Probably the psychotic state, Froggy," said Langly somewhere near his left knee. His thick glasses winked in the light of headlights like beacons. There was a "pop" as a sucker left his mouth.

"Colorado," said Byers, from the driver's seat. "We're nearing Denver, to be exact."

Frohike sat up and stretched. "Are we making good time or what?"

Langly snorted. "Are you kidding? We're making the best time in history! We are the Concorde of motor vehicles."

"Hope that doesn't mean we'll crash and burn," said Frohike. "Say, Langly, in your playings around with your laptop, have you been able to pick up any more Krycek info? Like that call?"

The sucker went in. "As a matter of fact, there was a call. Night before last." There was a great rustling of papers. "Aha! Here it is! 'Have located quarry and will bring it in posthaste. Ratboy.'"

Silence. Then, "you could have told us, Langly." Byers chided.

"Yeah, Langly," said Frohike. "We would have liked to have acquired that information in a timely manner. Geezus."

The sucker popped out. "Sorry! It didn't seem important! We'd already figured out where Mulder probably was."

"Shit," said Byers quietly.

Frohike's bug eyes went huge. "Byers, you're...you're profane!"

They could never stay angry with one another for very long and so they rode the next fifty miles in companionable silence.

"Hey, are we anywhere near Denver?" asked Frohike.

Langly threw a pillow at him. "Didn't you have geography in grade school?"

"Well, a guy can dream." Frohike said with dignity.

"And so what are you dreaming about? The Denver Cowgirls?"

"Boys, boys," said Byers gently.

"Hey, Froggy, give me my pillow back."

"Give me the pillow back what?"

"Give me my pillow back please?"

"No."

"What!" The sucker popped out. "Hey, I asked you nicely, Frohike."

"You threw it at me; now it's mine."

"It's yours until you fall asleep, then it's mine in a heartbeat."

"You must have the world's slowest pulse."

"BOYS!" said Byers, firmly, and they shut up. Langly retired to his laptop and Frohike, to his computerized poker game. The long miles rolled away under their wheels.

***********************************************************************

The afternoon after Scully got to the camp, she did as Agent White had suggested, took a Valium -- no, maybe two would be better -- and went to her "cabin." She found a sweater that had belonged to Mulder on her bed and she clutched it, inhaling his fragrance. Finally she was able to sleep.

She dreamed she was flying, one of those dreams where you feel you're invincible, and Mulder was flying with her. With the passage of time, though, both she and Mulder fell to Earth. There was a horrible dragon down there, and he devoured Mulder and laughed in Scully's face.

She woke up sweating. All was dark and silent around her. In the middle distance she could hear the grumble of the generator.

She switched on the one light allowed per tent and looked around for the Valium. It was there on her table where she'd left it, and she took three. It didn't take her long to fall asleep this time, and she slept deeply and dreamlessly.

When she awoke it was late and she realized she'd missed breakfast. Oh, well. She could go to the mess tent and find something to pick at, but she wasn't even hungry. Scratch that idea.

She sat on her bed and swung her legs, waiting for inspiration to strike her. When Agent White poked his head into her room a half hour later, she finally knew just what to say.

"I'm going home," she announced, standing up and walking the two steps to the door.

He raised an eyebrow. "What brought this on?"

She puffed out her cheeks. "Recent events, sir, and the loss of Agent Mulder. I don't want to stay around to help look for him and maybe find his body washed up on some riverbank, no. And I'm resigning from the FBI. Here's my badge, and here's my gun." She didn't mention the other gun she had hidden in her desk.

White shook his head. "No. I can't accept your resignation. You're much too important to the mission."

She said, "Sir. I'm not important to the mission at all and in fact, I have diverted considerable manpower away from it while I've been here."

"No. That's not true. I mean, it hasn't been your fault. Agent Scully, does any of this have to do with Mulder?"

She appeared to consider this before she spoke. "Yes, in fact it does. I can't be of much help to you while I'm in this state, mourning Mulder."

"Hey, this is just a temporary setback, Agent Scully! You'll feel better in a few days."

She shook her head. "No, I don't think I will, Agent White. I don't think I will."

White turned away for a moment, then back to Scully. "Agent Scully."

"Yes?"

"I'm going to tell you something, and I don't want you shouting it from the mountaintops."

She looked up at him. "OK, I promise or swear to God or whatever. What is it?"

He looked her in the eyes. "I have reason to believe that Agent Mulder may be alive."

She swayed and would have fallen had not White caught her. "What -- how --" she spluttered. And then, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" There was anger in her voice.

He led her to the bed and sat her back down. "Agent Scully, this is pretty much top secret. I was afraid that if I told you, I don't know, you'd do something," he finished lamely.

She regarded him coolly. "Do something? As in leak information? Call out the possee again? That kind of something?"

He nodded. "Yes, that kind of something."

She asked, "How do you know that Mulder may be alive? Do you have some kind of special information? Was it something I missed?"

"Well, I have the shirt."

"Which the lab never analyzed," she said, thoughtfully. "Where is the shirt now?"

"I can get it," he said, "be right back."

She waited, her knees jiggling nervously. What about the shirt?

"Look," he said, coming back in. "See these slashes? They're fairly regular?"

Scully looked doubtful. "OK, if you say so. So?"

"So this could never have been done by rocks or tree branches, whatever. They were pretty much done by a...knife."

"A KNIFE!" she sprang to her feet. "You mean Krycek killed Mulder? Then I'll kill HIM!"

White touched her gently on an arm. "Calm down, Agent Scully, let me finish."

"OK. So Krycek DIDN'T kill Mulder?"

"I don't think so. This IS Mulder's blood," he said, pointing to the stains. "I have had it analyzed, in a quick-and-dirty fashion. But I don't think the shirt was cut with him in it. I think he took it off and Krycek slashed it and then ... made Mulder bleed a little --" he was cut off with a screech.

"So! He did hurt Mulder, that rat-bastard! I'll get 'im," she glowered. Then, "Either you organize another search party or I'll call Skinner and he'll call out Army people to do it."

White sighed. "I was afraid you'd react like this. Look, I think that not only is Mulder alive, he is being well-cared for. Those two are gone on each other."

Scully looked down. She didn't know which was worse, Mulder the captive or Mulder the lover.

"And Agent Scully," he said softly, "I think I know where they are."

She looked up at him. "You DO? Well, let's go get 'em right now! Where is it? Somewhere in the Sandy River valley?"

He shook his head. "No. And we can't go get 'em right now, because we need Mulder up there, at least for a little while."

"But -- why?"

"Because he has to do something important to the mission. Something he may not even know yet."

"Well, are you gonna tell him? Can he be reached?'

"Oh, if someone makes another call from a phone in that house and it's long enough, we can trace it and get the number," she remarked.

"He's somewhere with a phone? With telephone wires and all that?"

"No, we think it's someplace with advanced cellular technology."

"His cell phone!" Scully squeaked. "Let's try it!"

White shook his head. "You can if you want. I've already tried that and just gotten a message from the phone company that it was out of range."

"OK, now where is he?" She asked seriously.

"It's called, I think, " White said slowly, "Hidden Valley. That's what it shows on the geological survey maps and that's I think where they are."

She looked at him speechlessly for a moment. "Then we've got to requisition a helicopter, fly right over there!" she exclaimed.

White shook his head. "No. That is precisely what we must not do."

"Oh, why not?"

"He has to do something for the mission. I can't get any more specific than that. He and only he can do it, and it is crucial. It is key."

He left her fuming, came back a minute later with a little bottle of pills. "I think you need more Valium. Here's some more. Use it judiciously, though." And left.

She looked at the bottle and threw it to the floor of the tent, pills scattering to the four directions.

******************************************************************************

Frohike slid to the back of the van and bumped his head. "Ow!" he said, coming painfully out of a delightful dream which involved Dana Scully.

"There's a seat belt there, you know, Froggy," said a voice somewhere by his feet. It was Langly, as usual going to town on a sucker. He was up in his seat, enjoying the scenery now that they had begun to climb. "There's a hell of a grade here." he remarked to Byers. "Take it easy, Speedy Gonzalez, or you'll overheat."

"That's WE'LL overheat, Langly," commented Byers. "And I never exceed the speed limit."

Frohike had arisen. "This is Denver?" he said hopefully.

Langly laughed. "We're through Denver. These are the Rocky Mountains, Frohike. Feast your eyes!"

Frohike looked out of the window at the mountains rushing by. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Did you forget your Dramamine?"

"I took it. When's the next rest stop, anyway?"

"Rest stop, ha ha. If you need to rest, pee in a bottle!"

Frohike sighed. "Byers! How long will we be in these mountains, anyway?"

"Don't you ever look at a map, Frohike? It'll be about three hundred miles."

The sucker popped out. "Three hundred miles, three hundred miles..." crooned Langly in a cracked voice.

"God, Langly, don't quit your day job!" Frohike winced.

"Next turnout is fifty miles, up over Loveland pass," announced Byers. "There's a bathroom there, that's it. Next place we can get food is about seventy-five miles."

Groans. "Well, I didn't make these mountains, you know," said Byers.

The sucker went in. "We could have flown," Langly observed.

"Why? That would have taken all the adventure out of it," said Byers.

"Shit. What adventure would that be?" asked Frohike. "Lousy food, lousy motels -- lousy drivers!"

Byers immediately stopped in a wide part of the road. "OK, see if you can do any better. Your turn, Frohike!" he said calmly.

Frohike, realizing he was serious, immediately scrambled to the front of the van with his two pillows, pulling the seat as far forward as he could and propping himself up with the pillows. The van started up again to a chorus of honks. This road was well-used and it was the only pass over the mountains, unless you wanted to drive 200 miles south to Rabbit Ears Pass, using a rather circuitous route.

When they arrived at the rest stop, Frohike pulled over so they could all admire the view. They got out, stretched, and headed for the restrooms. Frohike pulled out his cell and punched in a number.

"Who ya calling?" Langly asked.

"No one," said Frohike. He had punched in Mulder's number, hoping he'd be in range, but he just got a canned message from the phone company. "Shit!" he said.

"Whatsa matter, no one at home? Or maybe that should be, 'no one ISN'T home'!" he said waggishly, and the sucker went in. "You callin' Mulder?" he asked idly.

Frohike looked up and sighed. "Yes."

Langly looked at him. "Why doncha try Scully's number?"

Byers joined them at this point. "Who are you trying to reach, Frohike?" he asked. "Is it Mulder or Scully?"

"Well, it's both at this point!" Frohike punched in Scully's number but again got the "out of range" message. "Can't do it, not yet anyway!"

Byers shook his head. "Well, it's time to get back on the bus, folks! I'll drive again. Don't worry about my temper tantrum, Frohike. I think we're all beginning to get a little tired.."

"Yeah." Langly gestured with his sucker. "We ought to get a motel around here, if there is one, to get some shut-eye."

"Yeah, red-eye is all we've got at this point," Frohike murmured.

******************************************************************************

Jennings was assisting with the dig. At first he resisted, stating essentially that he was too good for it and that his job was strictly analysis, but he became intrigued by the process and joined in. "Have you guys noticed something," he asked idly, as they were taking a break.

"No, what?"

"For every shovelful of dirt we dig out, another of precisely the same mass settles back in."

"No, I hadn't noticed that," the other agent said, wiping the sweat off his brow with one hand, leaving a streak of dirt.

"Where's Giordini?" Jennings asked suddenly. "Snuck off, I'll bet!" He looked around. Giordini stood near the mine, drinking from a canteen.

"That better be water," he strode toward Giordini threateningly. The shorter man wiped his lips and looked up. "Sure boss, what else would it be?" He said calmly.

Giordini knew that the rocks in Jennings' head had finally grown into boulders, and he had to be alert for everything. What he didn't understand was why White continued to allow the man in camp and at work on the Project instead of shipping him off to a funny farm. 

Jennings didn't get why someone as useless and worthless as Giordini had been allowed into the FBI Academy in the first place, let alone graduate. And get sent to this mission.

"Hey Boss," Giordini said. "Have you noticed how we're not making any headway with the dig? The dirt just keeps settling back in!"

"Yeah, I've noticed all right. Let's just throw it outside. Then it can't sneak back in," Jennings suggested. Secretly, he thought it was the work of the Indian. He knew the Indian wanted to stay down there, buried under the mine. The Navajo had spoken to him about "desecration" of the grave, and by God he believed him.

"'Sneak back in'?" Giordini said.

Jennings thought he detected a sneer in his voice. "Well, you know," he said. "Get back in, then."

Giordini ran a hand through his hair. "OK, Boss," I'll do whatever. Throw the dirt out, throw the dirt in. I'm easy. They're paying us all pretty damned well to do this shit. So, whatever," he said nonchalantly, and went back into the mine.

******************************************************************************

Krycek produced a handcuff key and uncuffed Mulder. "Ow," said Mulder. Krycek helped him rub the life back into his hands.

"I didn't hurt you, I hope?" he asked with concern.

"Only a little. Naw, I'm OK," Mulder smiled, sat up and pulled Krycek to him. "Kiss," he murmured, and they kissed.

Krycek pulled away first. "I want to show you something," he said, indicating that Mulder follow him into the hallway. "Here," and he went into the bedroom on the other side. He crossed to the windows and threw them open. "This!" He said triumphantly.

Mulder followed and gasped with awe. Before him was the most beautiful sunset he'd ever seen, turning the clouds lavender and pink and suffusing everything in the valley with a rosy glow. "Oh, my God, Alex, this is gorgeous!" he said.

Krycek came and stood close to him. "I wanted you to see this and..."

Mulder turned to him. "And?"

"And never...never want to leave," he breathed, and licked Mulder's earlobe.

Mulder looked into his large eyes, glowing like beryl, fringed by the longest and lushest black lashes anyone had ever seen. He traced the line of Krycek's full lower lip with a finger. "I don't," he said simply.

Krycek ushered him into the dining room where another sumptuous repast was awaiting them. "I'm not really all that hungry," Mulder remarked offhandedly.

"Sure you are. Wait'll you see this!" Krycek uncovered chafing dishes of tandoori chicken, saffron rice, shrimp shiskebab and some kind of lentil thing.

"Is it Indian night or something," Mulder asked.

"I suppose. Try it! It's really good!"

Mulder found that he liked it and the rest of the meal was spent in companionable silence.

Dan appeared, magically as usual, to clear the dishes, and they retired to the den to watch videos. Mulder sat down on the bearskin rug, which appeared to be genuine. He looked around at all the mounted animal heads on the wall. Two or three appeared to be from endangered species.

"That's my deer, a big six-point buck," Krycek said proudly. "Don't worry, an unendangered mule deer. If anything, there are too many of them. The others were here when I got here," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I know you have a soft heart, but don't let them bother you, Mulder."

"Now," he said, picking up one of the remotes, "I wanted to show you this TV show, if you haven't seen it. It's called the 'x-files' and it's about two FBI agents who go around investigating all these weird doings. Now, promise not to laugh!"

They watched a couple of episodes and Mulder DID laugh once or twice, but then they watched the old, original version of "Wuthering Heights" and Mulder, who'd never seen it, enjoyed it tremendously. Then it was time for bed.

"Shower first," I think, suggested Krycek, and kicked off his shoes. "Want to go start it?" he asked.

"Sure," Mulder said. He quickly stripped, getting an erection as he thought about the shower a deux. Krycek watched him, fascinated.

"You have a great, big dong, lisitsa," he said softly, and moved forward to stroke it.

"Got to start shower, Alex," Mulder said, and moved reluctantly to the stall. Wow! The shower stall was huge and tiled with terra cotta tile all the way up to the ceiling. There were two oak benches and two nozzles. Each nozzle had the kind of attachment that allowed one to vary the speed and direction of the flow.

"This is great, Alex!" he exclaimed. 

"No need to yell," Krycek said, appearing at his elbow. "Get in the shower, lisa."

Mulder got into the shower and was rewarded by streams of hot water. "Oh god that feels good!"

"I'll bet this feels even better!" Krycek had his cock in hand, and was stroking rhythmically. Mulder gasped. If Krycek didn't watch it, he would come before the main course.

Krycek took the shower nozzle and carefully aimed it at the opening in Mulder's backside. The sensation was indescribable. "Oh Alex," he moaned, and he came. Krycek continued stroking till he'd milked every last drop from Mulder.

"Now my turn." He turned Mulder's face toward his and kissed him long, hard and deep. Then he pushed Mulder against the tiled wall and there was the unmistakable feel of metal on his wrists and he knew he'd been handcuffed. He felt himself becoming very aroused. He got hard and his erection rubbed against the rough tile.

"Spread 'em!" Krycek said harshly. He pushed his cock against the tight bud and shoved in. Mulder groaned, half in pain, half in pleasure. Krycek thrust in and out several times, then withdrew and came on the stall floor. "Lick it up, Mulder." he said flatly.

Mulder knelt carefully and began to lick up Krycek's come. 

"All of it, lisa." Mulder cleaned the tile before the shower spray could, then stood with difficulty.

"Want to come again?" Krycek whispered in his ear. Mulder nodded frantically.

"OK. Watch this," Krycek said. He directed the shower extension so that the spray was against Mulder's cock. Then he drew it up and down the length of his cock, around on the balls, up and down... Mulder came suddenly, screaming.

"Good BOY," Krycek said, kissing him lightly on the lips.

Krycek unlocked the handcuffs and they finished showering. They dried off, performed other nightly ablutions and then Mulder flopped limply on the bed.

"I think I'm gonna sleep well tonight," remarked a sleepy Mulder. 

"No shit," agreed Krycek. Before he fell asleep, he opened the big shuttered window to admit the cool night air. "Not many insects up here," he yawned.

"Except you, my little bug in a rug," said Mulder.

Krycek came to bed and kissed him. "I adore you, lisitsa," he said.

The next morning Mulder awakened to find that he was alone in bed, with a big square of sunlight coming through the windows and fafallinging on him. He squinted. Krycek had left him a note on the pillow: will be at stables for half an hour, then will be back for breakfast 7:30 AM. He looked at the clock radio: 8:00. Yawning, he looked around for his clothes. They weren't anywhere to be seen, but instead a clean set of jeans, shirt and boxers were laid out on a chair. He lifted the underwear. They appeared to be new, never worn. Same with the shirt. The jeans, though, were soft and had seen some wear.

He dressed. When he walked into the dining room, the steaming chafing dishes were there, but no Krycek. He realized he was hungry, and wondered whether it was OK to start without him. Aw, what the hell, he thought, and slid some eggs onto his plate.

Krycek walked into the dining room scowling, but he smiled when he saw Mulder. "Good morning!"

"Good morning to you! I was beginning to think I'd been unutterably rude by starting without you!"

"Oh no, Mulder, I don't care! I would have felt badly if you'd just sat there and waited for me!"

"Good!" said Mulder, and speared a hunk of egg. "But you did look upset when you came in"

"Oh, that!" Krycek laughed. "Just got some things on my mind! For one thing, Goldie the horse looks like he's gonna be really lame for at least six months, and maybe indefinitely. We've got lots of other horses, but he's special. He was a show horse in half-breed competitions, and he's won many championships."

Mulder noticed how Alex's face and voice glowed. Those horses really mean something to him, he thought. "And what's the rest of the stuff you've got on your mind?" he asked.

Krycek's expression changed. It became bitter, sullen. "Nothing," he said into his plate. "Say, Mulder!" he said brightly, "why don't we saddle up a couple of horses and I can take you for a tour around the place!"

"Well, sure, Alex, that'd be great." He wondered what "nothing," had meant, and decided it was probably a very big something -- but he wasn't going to press.

After breakfast they walked out to the stables. Alex delighted in showing him around. "See, Mulder, the size of these stables? They house 35 horses. We've got 31 right now. Each stall has its own little paddock. All the horses are provided with fresh water through this system -- see the horse presses down on this lever and water flows into the basin -- and hay, and grain if we're workin' 'em."

He stopped at a stall. "Here's your horse. His name is Socks, for obvious reasons. The sorrel gelding had high white "stockings" to his knees, and a wide white blaze to boot. He turned toward Mulder and whickered. "See, he likes you," he laughed. "Socks is a full-blooded Arab."

"He's very beautiful," observed Mulder. Krycek led him out of the stall. He was already saddled and bridled and Mulder looked with misgivings at the tiny flat saddle. "I'm supposed to ride on that saddle? It's no bigger than a postage stamp. No horn to hold onto."

Krycek laughed. "That's an English saddle. We might have some fences to jump. You'll get used to it!"

"Oh, great. That's just great," said Mulder. He looked at the horse and sighed.

"Leg up?" asked, and Krycek cupped his hands. His hands?! Mulder realized that Alex was wearing his prosthetic arm. "Uh."

"It's OK, it's really sturdy. Now leg up." He did and was eventually seated. Alex adjusted the stirrups. "There. That should do it. Except for your hard hat." Krycek walked to a wall on which hung several hats. "You've got a big brain cage, Mulder, so this should fit." He tossed him a ridiculous-looking hat with a little bill in front.

"You're not serious."

"Yes, I am."

"I have to wear this thing?"

"Yes you do. It could save your life."

He went to the next stall and led out Diablo, looking rested and full of pepper. He donned his own hard hat. "English riding is two-handed riding," he remarked as he swung into the saddle. "That's a snaffle bit you've got there, Mulder. The bit works on the corners of the horse's mouth, so you have to use equal pull on both sides. The high Western curb bit works inside the mouth and you only need one hand..."

They walked the horses out into the big courtyard. "There you can see the extent of the ranchhouse and the outbuildings," Krycek observed. "That's where the vet lives, and the help lives in those cottages over there..."

They rode on. "Here are the royal gardens," he said gravely. Mulder laughed. "Flowers, roses and others, are grown here, solely for the purposes of having cut flowers. Over there are the vegetable gardens. We grow carrots, potatoes, peppers, peas, corn, lettuces, radishes, parsnips, watercress, four different kinds of onions, beets, beans, artichokes, brussels sprouts, cabbage, kale, garlic, tomatoes, tomatillos..."

"Wow!" Observed Mulder. "So this is where you get the stuff for the Royal Table? You don't import it."

"We do, some specialty items, " Krycek observed, "that we can't grow here in this climate or in the greenhouses. That stuff comes in by chopper. Once a month. Along with gasoline for the generator and the tractor, propane, clothing, medicines, certain meats, stuff like that."

Krycek led them around the Northern end of the building. "Here are our greenhouses," he said. "In here we grow things that don't do well in this climate, some flowers but mostly things like citrus and avocado trees. There are six greenhouses all told."

Mulder's eyes were growing wider and wider. They rode on.

"Here's the blacksmith shop," Krycek said. "The vet does the blacksmithing. He likes to do it, and he's good at it," he shrugged.

They turned toward the west now. "Some sort of field?" Mulder asked. 

"Yes, this is an alfalfa field, for the horses. Beyond it you see a cornfield, also for the horses."

They continued to ride some time in silence. "Ah, here's the rest of our livestock," Krycek said, pointing with his good arm. "Cattle, sheep, goats and true free-range chickens. We also have a duckpond with ducks and geese. The cook makes a pate de foie gras that's to die for!"

"Do you mostly eat these animals, then?" Mulder asked.

"We eat some, but we mostly keep, for example, the chickens for their eggs, the cattle, which are dairy cattle, for milk, butter, yogurt and so on, and the sheep for their wool. There is a shop round the back of the house where the wool is spun and made into actual clothing."

"Wow! Do you wear it, then?"

"Sometimes," Krycek answered. "If I like it!"

They were approaching a fast-running creek. There was a little bridge over it and they clopped across. Krycek paused on the other side. "This is Bubbling Creek, and we get the most amazing trout out of it!" He rode on toward a fenced field which seemed to have no gate.

"Hey, Alex, that's a fence there!"

Krycek turned back to look at him and grinned. "Told ya there would be opportunities to learn how to jump!" He clucked at Diablo, and he was over the fence in a flash. "See how easy it is? Don't worry, Mulder, your horse is a born jumper! Come on, come on!"

Mulder's heart was pounding in his throat. "Easy, huh?" he muttered. "Yeah, real easy for him to say!"

He clucked to his horse, and Socks moved forward at a trot. Just as he got to the fence, Mulder tightened up and unknowingly pulled at the reins. Socks stopped on a dime and Mulder went sailing over the fence.

He looked up to see Krycek convulsed with laughter, bending forward in his saddle as though something hurt him an awful lot. "Oh, God, Mulder," he gasped. "That was one of the funniest things I have EVER SEEN!"

Mulder stood up and brushed himself off. He'd done a backflip and pretty much landed on his butt, so he was not hurt. "Very funny, Krycek," he said stiffly. "Did you know that horse was gonna do that?"

Krycek stopped laughing. "Oh NO, Mulder. You must have pulled him back."

"Well, OK then. Now what're we gonna do? I'm here, and the Horse from Hell is on the other side of this fence. Don't you believe in gates?" he asked gloomily.

"The gate is about a mile from here. Don't worry, see. Just climb over the fence and mount, then I'll tell you what to do."

Mulder managed to mount backwards. He managed to mount sideways. He managed to push the saddle onto the belly side of the horse. Finally, after many chortles, chuckles, snorts and downright guffaws complete with leg-slappings and stomach-holdings from Krycek, he took pity on Mulder, jumped the fence to the Mulder side, righted the saddle, and gave him a leg up.

"Now, look," Krycek said. "We'll do this together. We'll back up a few yards. You'll lean over the horse's neck as we approach the jump, and give him his head, Mulder. That means loose reins. When I shout, 'up!', both horses will jump at the same time, and we'll be over in a twinkling, OK?"

"OK." 

They cantered, Krycek shouted, "Up!" and Mulder felt the fence rush toward him, and then away from him, then the ground rose toward him. He landed clinging to the horse's neck.

"Excellent! Mulder, that was awesome!" Krycek said, his beryl eyes shining. "God, you deserve a prize for that!"

"The only prize I need is you," Mulder said, and Krycek grinned at him, white teeth flashing.

They rode on through the field, which was fallow. "And what are you growing here?" Mulder asked mildly. 

"Weeds, as you can see. It's an auxiliary field to be used if we need it," Krycek said. "So far, we haven't needed it."

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"How long have you been staying here?"

"Two years, off and on."

"What's the off?"

Krycek turned toward him. "When I'm out killing people and spying on the FBI."

"Ouch!" Said Mulder.

They reached the other end of the field. Krycek urged the horses over with an "up!" and both jumped safely and cleanly. Mulder thought he could learn to like this. The sensation was one of flying.

"Here's the workout ring for the horses. It's basically a racetrack with jumps and so on in the infield. We train them in dressage, jumping and other things...English and Western Pleasure, sometimes barrel racing, things like that."

Mulder nodded. "Quite a setup. Do you train them?"

"Yes, I do. I have help from time to time."

He didn't say who helped him, and Mulder had a flash of jealousy. Take it easy, Mulder, he thought.

They rode on. "This is the cotton field," Krycek said, pointing.

"Cotton??" Mulder couldn't believe this one.

Krycek turned and flashed a grin. "Sure. This part of Utah is nicknamed Dixie. The cotton is actually --"

"I know, made into clothes and bedsheets," Mulder finished.

"You're right!" said Krycek. "In fact, your shirt and shorts were made in the workshop here."

"Unbelievable!"

"Oh, there's a couple more things I wanted to show you." said Krycek. "Back over there are the orchards -- apple, pear, plum, apricot, peach and cherry trees. And almond, walnut... And over there, berry fields. Strawberry, raspberry, blueberry, boysenberry and ollalieberry."

"Don't make me guess. You have lots and lots of jam."

Krycek rolled his eyes. "And divine jam cookies, jelly rolls, glazes to die for, fruit shortcake, berry truffles ..."

Now Krycek veered away from the farm and started up a rocky trail. Mulder followed him, intrigued. Anything else this guy showed him was bound to be extraordinary. A stream crossed the trail and the horses waded across. "Is this the same creek, Alex, Bubbling Creek? It seems to have changed course." It was getting hot and Mulder had the urge to dismount and play in the water. Evidently his horse had the same thought. Socks reached down to dip his soft nose in the cold water.

"Yes, and Mulder, you can't let your horse drink this icy water. He'll just have to wait."

The horses climbed the steep trail slowly.

"Alex."

"Yeah?"

"What's this thing about horses and water?"

"Well, you can kill a horse by giving him very cold water or by giving him too much."

"Really? What happens?"

"Well, he can die of colic, for one thing."

"Yeah, what's this thing about horses and colic?"

"Well, two things. The first is that they can't vomit. Anything that's bugging them has to stay in there and they can't get relief. The other thing is that horses, being herbivores, have very long intestines. If the colicky horse rolls in his stall in an effort to quell the pain, the intestine can twist -- that's called a torsion -- and then that part of the bowel dies and the horse dies. Agonizingly."

"Jesus H. Christ," said Mulder fervently.

"Oh, and the other thing about cold water is laminitis or founder. The walls of the hoof are made of laminae -- lots of little thin layers compressed together. Cold water can cut off the blood supply to the laminae and they, well, delaminate. The hoof gets a ripply appearance and turns up. The horse is ruined. You can't ride him. He might as well go to the glue factory."

"Have you ever lost a horse due to these things?"

"Yes," he said shortly.

"What happened?"

"My houseboy, before Dan, fed my best stallion green apples. He didn't bother to tell me when the horse developed colic."

"What'd you do?"

"Shot him," said Krycek.

"Who -- the horse?"

Krycek turned back to look at him, eyes glittering. "Both."

Mulder grew quiet. It occurred to him that he had chosen a very dangerous man to fall in love with.

The trail turned to the right and Mulder heard a loud rushing noise. One more turn, and he could see a waterfall. It fell about 50 feet from its limestone bed into a rocky pit beside the trail.

A man, large and stocky, middle-aged with a long greying black ponytail, stood adjusting the saddle on a neat bay mare with black points.

"Oh. God, how beautiful!" he breathed, meaning the waterfall.

Krycek smiled. The man stood up and smiled back. "Ya made it, Alexei!" he said.

"Well, why wouldn't I, silly?" Krycek asked.

Alexei? Alexei? Even Mulder didn't call him that. He was consumed with curiosity.

"And is this the blushing bride?" The man asked.

"Huh?" Mulder said, intelligently.

The large man walked over to Mulder and extended his hand. "I'm Bill Runningwater. The vet."

"Oh, the vet!" Mulder said. "Yes. And my name is Fox Mulder."

"Oh, I've heard so much about you, Mr. Mulder. Do you prefer to be called Fox?"

"Mulder. Just Mulder is fine."

"OK, Mulder." He beamed. Krycek dismounted and indicated for Mulder to do the same. Krycek led both horses alongside the mare, and tied them to a tree. Diablo, nostrils flaring, checked out the mare. When he was satisfied as to her condition, he fell to munching the sparse grass that grew there.

"Are you boys ready?" Runningwater asked, rocking back on his heels.

"Ready for what?" Mulder asked. He'd learned, with Alex Krycek, that one had to be ready for anything.

"Why, for the ceremony, of course!" From his mare's saddlebag he produced a Bible.

"What??" Mulder spluttered.

"It's OK, dear, I'm bent," Runningwater said reassuringly.

"What's with the Bible then?"

"I," he said with a flourish, "am an ordained minister of the Unitarian Church. And of the Navajo tribe, I may add. And I'm going to marry you and Alexei."

Mulder's jaw dropped and incomprehensible sounds drifted out.

"C'mon, Mulder, it'll be a kick," Alex said. "C'mon." He led Mulder to a spot under the waterfall where the spray did not reach them.

"OK," he began. "In the spirit of the Great Spirit, who forsaketh no man, do you promise to cleave to one another, to be as one, not to forsake for another, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

Mulder couldn't remember a marriage ceremony sounding exactly like this. "I do," said Krycek. He nudged Mulder. "Uh, I do too," he said lamely.

"Then by the power vested in me by the state and by the Great Spirit previously spoken of, I now pronounce you man and man. You may kiss the bride."

Alex beamed and placed a gold wedding band on Mulder's right ring finger. "Wear it on the right hand, Mulder," he said, his eyes glowing. And he kissed him. And such a kiss there never was. Such a kiss could be spoken of in sonnets or sung about in the most mellifluous music ever written. When they were done, he spoke to Bill Runningwater.

"We're going to make love on that ledge there behind the waterfall. You may watch or do whatever you wish."

Runningwater smiled. "Well, I am curious, you know, but I don't think so."

Krycek and Mulder quickly stripped; Krycek took the arm off and tossed it aside, and walked beneath the waterfall. There was a sensation of being crushed as the waterfall struck him, then they were there on the ledge. Mulder was amazed to discover that it was virtually dry inside.

Krycek turned to him. "I want you to suck and fuck me, Mulder. And I want to do the same to you!"

Mulder immediately knelt and took Krycek in his mouth, sucking first the tip -- Krycek moaned --and then the entire length of his cock. Krycek's knees felt wobbly. Mulder sucked him for a while, up and down along the length, teasing the head with his tongue, cupping his balls and sucking them into his mouth, one at a time.

"I'm gonna come," Krycek gasped. "I need you to fuck me now!"

Without a word, Mulder pulled Krycek up then pushed him against the rock wall. "Spread 'em!" he said huskily.

Krycek obligingly spread his legs. No lube. Oh-oh. "Fuck me dry!" he gasped, as if reading Mulder's mind. Mulder pressed the tip of his cock head against the tight ring of muscle then began slowly to push it in. Krycek's groans and ragged sobs turned him on further. After penetrating Krycek to his fullest extent, he began to thrust. Never had he felt anything so exquisite. He went slowly at first, savoring the sensations and Krycek's heat, then began to thrust harder. Krycek moaned and squirmed, pinned against the wall by Mulder's cock, his own cock rubbing against the rough cool stone, then he began to scream loud tearing screams and as he did, Mulder came too and shot his hot come deep into Krycek.

They stood for a moment attached to each other, then Mulder slid out. Krycek turned toward him, a loving look in his eyes. "That was the best orgasm of my entire life, and you are the best, and I love you," he said.

"Shit, Alex, I love you too. And, I'd have to say that was the best of my life, too," he said rather lamely.

Krycek leaned forward and kissed him, hard. "My lisitsa, you are mine always now."

They walked under the waterfall again, again the spray and the crushing sensation, and they were wading in the pool. Mulder waded through it and walked onto the path.

"Come play with me!" Krycek called, splashing him. "Come on! It must be 90 degrees already! Come cool off!"

"Well, all right!" Mulder smiled.

They splashed each other for a while, then lay back in the pool and let the current play with them. Bill Runningwater was still there, fussing with something on his saddle. "Alexei, come look at this," he called.

Alex arose from the pool, dripping. Runningwater was careful not to look at him. Probably afraid of getting a hard-on, Krycek thought.

"Look," Runningwater said. Alex gasped. One of the cinches was cut almost all the way through at the back. "What do you think about that, Alexei?"

Krycek shook his head. "I saddled that mare myself this morning; I was going to ride her. That cinch was perfectly OK."

Runningwater rubbed his chin. "So it happened between the time you saddled her and the time I showed up to ride her. I don't like this, Alexei, not one bit. What do you think it means?"

"Shit! It means someone tried to kill either you or me, probably me," he said gloomily.

"Do you think you can find out who it was?"

"Yeah, I have an idea. If I find him I'll hunt him down and shoot him like the dog he is."

"Now, now," Runningwater chided. "Not to get violent, Alexei."

"Shit. Do you think you can ride like that, with only one cinch? The other one will break on the way back, you know."

"Tell you what, I'll ride bareback. We can come back for the saddle later, with a horse pulling the cart."

Krycek nodded. "I think that's a good idea." He looked at the saddle. "Or we could just pitch the fucker over the edge of the trail."

"Whatever you want, Alexei." With swift movements, Runningwater removed his mare's saddle and jumped astride her. "Now move aside, white boy!"

Alex laughed and slapped the mare's rump in passing. She didn't even flinch. A good horse.

Runningwater urged his horse to a trot. "He's reckless," remarked Alex, with a smile. Runningwater began to sing something, loudly and in a strange foreign language.

"It's a Navajo Blessing Way chant. He's telling us that we have his blessing, etc."

Pretty soon all they could see was the horse's bay rump and the jouncing ponytail of Bill Runningwater.

"I don't like this business about the cinch being cut," Mulder remarked.

"Yeah, what's to like?" Krycek said.

"Did you really mean that about hunting the guy and shooting him like a dog?"

Krycek considered. Then, "yes," he said. "After all," he said, turning to Mulder, his green eyes hard. "I am Alex Krycek."

Mulder shook his head. "I guess SO!" The man had inhuman loves, hates and desires. Maybe "inhuman" was the wrong word. Perhaps "superhuman" was more like it. Mulder shook his head again. "God, Alex, you really are different from anyone I've ever met."

"Yes, I am. I have made a career out of being different."

******************************************************************************

"Ah geez. Couldn't we have separate motel rooms for once?"

"Frohike. You know that we are trying to conserve funds so that we have some left over for emergencies," said Byers sternly.

"This is an emergency. I'm having a panic attack. I'm claustrophobic," said Frohike.

Langly popped a grape sucker out of his mouth. "Take a walk outside, Froggy. Breathe the bracing mountain air and all that."

Frohike glared at him. "You know where you can put your bracing mountain air."

The sucker went back in. "You're just complaining because you have to share a bed."

"Yeah, and you're the guy I have to share it with! You take the blankets!"

Langly said, "Well, you snore, so we're even."

"Children!" Byers said. "It might be a good idea, after we eat, to take a nice walk, as Langly suggested. How often do you see beautiful country like this?"

The sucker popped out. "Where do we eat, and when? Now would be a good idea, and close by would be another one."

"Yeah," Frohike said. "Hey, we're agreeing on something!" He smiled.

Byers said, "Well, as the restaurant adjoining this motel is the only one for fifty miles around, it seems as though it is the only logical choice."

They walked to the diner and walked in, slipping into a booth, picking up the menus.

"There's this chicken-fried steak with red-eye gravy," Frohike said, "that would be apropos."

"Go ahead and order it, Frohike, if you'd like," said Byers mildly.

"Naw, I think I'll get a burger," said Frohike. "Now, Langly, don't tell me you're ordering pie a la mode and a milkshake, PLEASE."

The sucker popped out. "All that sugar keeps my brain running."

"Is that the problem, then?" Frohike asked. "I knew it was something."

"Ha ha. I have a higher IQ than you."

"Oh yeah? Wanna do a Mensa test-off?"

The sucker went in, and Langly stared off into the distance.

"The waitress is really cute, and she's headed this way."

There was a general stir at the table as all three tried to sit up straight, smoothed their hair back and tried to straighten wrinkled duds.

She was blonde, in her twenties, and Frohike was reminded of "invisigoth." She took their orders and disappeared into the back of the restaurant.

"My God," Frohike breathed. "She is so hot."

Langly said, "Well, why don't you ask her out?"

"Now that's a question that a Mensa test-off winner would ask," Frohike retorted.

Langly produced another sucker from a pocket, carefully unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth.

"Langly, you're going to rot your teeth." Byers observed. "When is the last time you saw a dentist?"

"Fairly recently, actually," Langly said. "Hey Frohike."

"What?"

"Ever been with a woman?"

Frohike was speechless. Then, "What the hell kind of question is that?"

"It's a good question. Inquiring minds want to know." 

"Well, the answer is, yes, I have," Frohike answered with dignity.

"Ha! Bet she looked like you!"

"Hell, Langly, bet your girlfriend looked like YOU. Now, there's a nightmare for you!"

Their bantering was interrupted by the arrival of their orders: hamburger for Frohike, tuna sandwich for Byers, and as anticipated a chocolate milkshake and cherry pie for Langly.

"Langly, something seriously bad is going to happen to you unless you get some protein in your diet," Frohike observed.

"Want me to get some more protein? Here," and Langly grasped Frohike's burger, raised it to his mouth and took a huge bite.

"Jesus," Frohike grumbled.

"Hey guys," Byers said, "I am going to take both of you to the principal's office unless you behave."

After attempts at flirting with the waitress failed they finished their meals, paid their checks and walked outside.

"You know, I would like to take a walk," Frohike said. "It really is beautiful outside."

"I'll walk with you," Langly said, "Just look at these mountains!"

"You realize that these are actually just the Western foothills? We're in Utah, guys. That river down there is the Green." Byers said.

"Wow! That's something! Let's go take a closer look. Come on, Byers!" said Frohike.

The sucker popped out. "I'm going with you!"

They looked at him. "No, you're not," said Frohike.

"Oh, and why not?"

"Someone has to stay with the van because of that...thing...in there." said Frohike carefully.

"And I'm elected?" Langly asked.

"You're the maker of the...thing... Where is the detonator, by the way?"

The sucker went in. "In my pocket," Langly said.

"Oh, that's just GREAT!" Frohike shouted. "So you're walking along, you accidentally hit the button, and BLAMMO! There goes the van."

"And rocks, trees, people," said Byers. "That's a good move, Langly."

"All right. Give me the keys, Byers. I'm going back to the room and I'll take the detonator out and put it somewhere and I'll just sit, OK?"

"Here, catch. I'm beginning to think this b-- thing is a bad idea."

"Hey, we wanna blow up that Krycek, don't we? Rid the world of one of its worst vermin?" Frohike said.

"Yeah," Byers said rather dispiritedly. He shook his head. "Hey, let's take a look around. That looks like a trail."

******************************************************************************

Scully recovered from her little fit and picked up the pills. She had some Valium left and wasn't likely to need these, but she put them in her lock-box anyway. The dinner call came; she went to dinner and picked at her food, pretending to eat it. She mashed up her baked potato, then hid her broccoli around it. The steak wasn't touched at all. She kept seeing in her mind's eye Krycek cutting Mulder, and she shuddered at the thought of anything involving blood.

Agent Harris came and sat next to her, squeezing her arm sympathetically. "I know, " she said without preamble, "how much you miss Mulder. We all do, all those who knew him. He was a fine agent and an even finer human being." Scully looked into her earnest gray eyes. She didn't know, she thought. "Scully, it's OK to talk about it with anyone you want -- I'm always available at any time; I'll drop what I'm doing to talk to you, OK? And although I can't speak for Agent White, I'll bet he feels the same way."

"Um, thank you very much. I'll take you up on your offer if I need to." She felt bad deceiving this sweet, sincere woman.

"And Agent Scully, it's OK to cry. I notice that you don't cry much, and I think it's good to cry sometimes. Well, that's all. End of lecture." She gave Scully's arm a final squeeze and left.

Scully looked at her as she left. I guess it's just me and White who know, she thought. Mulder. Krycek. Mulder and Krycek. Krycek. I would like to scratch those green eyes right out. I would like to slit his throat and watch him bleed.

She was leaving as White approached her. "Agent Scully, may I see you please?"

"Why?" she asked flatly. "Have you found Mulder? That's the only thing I want to talk about." All of a sudden, she didn't feel well at all. Something I didn't eat??

"I'm just concerned about you. Come and talk to me."

"I don't...I don't..." she was thinking: Krycek. Mulder. Krycek. Mulder. She could feel herself getting dizzy. "I don't..." The world began to spin. As she looked into the hot desert sky, her eyes turned toward the sun. She grasped at nothing and fell.

Next she knew, she was lying on her back in a tent. It looked like her own. How had she gotten there? Had she walked? She didn't remember. She tried to struggle upward, and a hand touched her arm gently. She looked upward, and there was White.

"What're you doing in my tent," she asked groggily.

"I brought you here after you fainted."

"Thass absurd. I never faint."

"You do if, number one, you have such heavy periods that you're anemic and you don't take iron supplements even though you're a renowned physician and you know better, and two, you put yourself under more strain than one person can handle."

"Izzat what I did?"

"I should say so, yes."

"Ah." Her head flopped back onto her pillow, and she looked at him through half-mast eyes. "Aren't you sposed to be running the camp and allat?"

He sighed. "This is more important. You're more important."

"Oh, whyzzat?"

"For many reasons. One is that you are crucial to the mission. You'll be the primary support of Agent Mulder when he gets back."

"What're the othersh?"

"Those you may yet discover," he said enigmatically. "Now I'm leaving you in the capable hands of Agent Harris. Get better!" And he strode out.

Scully did get better, so much so that she was able to join the campfire festivities. There was much joking, laughter and telling of tall tales. She smiled through most of it, laughed several times. Agent White took a seat by her halfway through. She smiled noncommittally at him and accepted a squeeze on the arm. Near the end she rose to go. Walking down the "lane" to her cabin, he hailed her.

"Agent Scully!"

"Yessir!" she said.

"Come with me. I want to show you something!"

"OK", and she went into his tent.

He turned to her with blue eyes blazing. "Look at me," he said. He raised a hand to her face, tracing the fine line of her jaw, her lush lips. 

To her own surprise, she didn't pull back but met his steel-blue gaze with her own, and when he bent down to kiss her, she kissed him back hungrily. They embraced. Scully could feel his erection through his jeans, bumping against her.

He buried his face in her hair. "Ah, Scully. Even your hair smells sweet. Look," and he pulled back, holding her at arm's length. "Number one, I have waited for you longer and wanted you more than any woman I've ever known. Number two, I want you in my bed. Tonight. And number three, it's got to be voluntary. Scully, you mustn't feel that I'm pressuring you in any way or taking advantage of your weakened state. I will be so gentle with you, Scully."

She smiled up at him wickedly. "Number one," she said, "How soon can this happen? Number two, I don't feel pressured, and number three, call me Dana."

White felt a delicious thrill like electricity course through him. "My God," he said. "It can happen right away, Dana.."

She stood away from him and unbuttoned her top shirt button. 

"No. These tent walls are exactly like paper, only more so. Quickly, before the campfire gathering breaks up, hurry and get your sleeping bag. We'll slip out of camp unseen and go up on the ridge there. Oh-- and call me David."

"OK." she whispered. She ran to her tent and rolled up her sleeping bag. When she came out White was waiting for her. Together they walked out the back of the camp and half a mile up on the ridge. Looking down, they could see the campfire still going and the camp lights, twinkling like dragonflies. Above them, the stars were a million tiny lamps.

White zipped the sleeping bags together. They undressed quickly and she went to him with a deep kiss. He was large, and rock-hard against her. "Look at you," he said in a stunned whisper. He touched her breasts, her ass, stroked her pussy. "You're perfect."

My God, I really am attracted to him, she thought. How did that happen? When did that happen?

He bent her carefully to the sleeping bag. He was a skilled lover. He kissed her lips, her face, her hair, her breasts, licked down her abdomen, kissed her navel and then --

"Oh god that feels good," she moaned. He was licking and sucking her in a most delightful way and then-- "OHGODOHGODOHMYGOD." She yelled, and came suddenly and unexpectedly.

He moved up to kiss her mouth, and she tasted her salty, musky self on him. "Good thing we're not in my tent!" he said wryly.

She giggled. "OK, your turn, Mister! You can stand, kneel or lie down -- your choice!" 

"Oh, I guess I'll kneel,"

"Good choice!" She bent and took him in her mouth, swallowing him to the root. He gasped sharply. She licked and sucked him with practiced strokes until he pulled out. "I'm gonna come real fast here!" he said.

He lowered her once more to the bedroll. "Now, Dana, you're gonna feel me, and it's gonna feel good."

"Oh god yes, please please!" she begged.

He positioned himself exactly right and thrust in, hard.

"Oh you're so big! Oh, fuck me, fuck me!" she yelled with abandon. Was this the same woman who'd fainted earlier today? The same woman who'd sworn undying fealty to Fox Mulder?

"I'm sorry Mulder," she whispered, suddenly contrite.

"MULDER is not in this bed with you!" White said sternly, and thrust hard for effect.

Scully felt the moment dissolving in a sudden rush of warmth. Am I coming...a...gai--

And suddenly she was screaming, "David, David!" and he was thrusting harder and harder and then he was yelling "Dana!"

They held each other for a long while. He told her of stellar evolution -- he had a doctorate in astrophysics -- she described the new PDR for herbology. He observed that even though they were a half-mile from camp their screams could probably be heard for miles in this clear desert air, but that he didn't give a rat's ass.

What he was thinking was, marry me. Marry me and I will give you the stars.

She was wondering whether Mulder was watching these same stars, held in the embrace of that scourge of the Earth, Krycek.

They made love on and off all night long. By dawn Scully stumbled up out of her sleeping bag. White was sitting on a rock formation, watching her. She wondered how long he'd been up. She gave him a wan smile. "I'm sorry, I'm not really a morning person," she said. He hopped down to help her roll up her sleeping bag. They made it back into camp before the morning call. 

"Time to hit the showers, I guess," she said. On their way she noticed the Kirlian machine. "Has anyone been paying attention to that?" she asked him idly.

"Yes, I've been watching the tapes every morning," he said gravely. "The data have not been analyzed for several days, though, because the outfit that was doing that -- well, they haven't been in." He sounded put out.

"Not been in?" she asked sleepily, but was thinking sharply: That isn't like Frohike. That isn't like him at all.

******************************************************************************

Dino Giordini passed Ronald Jennings on the way to breakfast. Giordini was nattily dressed as usual in his crisply-ironed cotton shirt and creased shorts; Jennings was wearing a bathrobe and slippers. And that was all. Giordini caught some of the looks Jennings was getting, but the archaeologist was completely oblivious, shuffling along in his old mules as if he were alone at home. Giordini noticed that Agent White come out of his tent and stoped to talk to Jennings. Good, he thought smugly, the old bastard'll get his comeuppance now. White seemed to be speaking to him with respect. That'll change, thought Giordini. Jennings may have been the fellow to single-handedly discover the tomb of Queen Nim-shep-sis "down in Egypt land," but that was God knew how many years ago and there was a lot of water under the bridge. And over the brain, too, he thought.

Giordini, lurking behind a barrel, saw Agent Scully duck out of White's tent and give him a wave. My, my, weren't we getting personal here? And it seemed to Giordini that they'd both left the campfire at the same time last night, and that shortly afterwards he heard yells and such coming from the ridge. Agent Scully, tsk tsk! He thought. Why, he'd thought she was gone on that Mulder fellow. Then it turned out he was abducted by Alex Krycek! How exciting! They must be lovers! Well, that leaves poor Scully out, doesn't it? So that's why she's turned to White! He, Giordini, would've loved to have had a chance with White. He was sexy.

Giordini had once, in DC, intercepted a blown-up driver's license photo of an extremely handsome man coming in over the wires. Not willing to give it to its proper recipient, he took it home, framed it and put it on the wall. Months later, he learned that this was Alexei Krycek, the most dangerous spy in the world, and the attraction only increased. He was secretly in love with Krycek and would have done almost anything to meet him. He got a glance at him the day he abducted Mulder, a mere glance through his binoculars, but it was enough to convince him he was still the most handsome man on Earth. No wonder Mulder was so crazy about him! Who wouldn't be? Maybe, maybe when they caught up with him, he, Giordini would get to meet him. Or even better!

Giordini came out from behind the barrel and nearly collided with Agent Scully.

"Oops, sorry Agent Scully! Please forgive me!"

"That's all right!" she smiled.

Giordini looked at her speculatively as she sped away. Sure, she was a beautiful woman. But what was that compared with a beautiful man? She could see why Mulder had made his choice.

******************************************************************************

"Langly."

"Yeah, Froggy?"

"What road are we on?"

Langly turned around in the driver's seat.

"I wish you wouldn't do that!" exclaimed Byers, running a hand through his neat coiff. "Every time you do, we practically have an accident!"

Langly pulled a cherry sucker out of his cheek. "Would that be a virtual accident?"

"Turn back around!"

"OK, OK. Now in answer to your question, Frohike: we are on Highway 70. We have been on Highway 70 for the last 2000 miles. We will be on Highway 70 for the next 100 miles. What do you look at when you drive, Froggy?" The sucker popped back in decisively.

"Well shit oh fuck. Oh damn. Excuse me for asking."

Byers looked at him. "Are you all right, Frohike?"

"I would be if people didn't treat me as if I were brain-dead," he said with dignity. "I'm merely directionally impaired."

"Hey, guys, want to know what I've found out, in the back of the van being weird and stupid by myself?" he asked.

"Hey, you're not eccentric or anything," said Langly, waving the sucker.

"Look: I analyzed the data from that Krycek call that Langly sort of half-ass analyzed, and..."

"I resent that," Langly said. "I always do things in a whole-ass manner."

Byers guffawed. "Oops, sorry Langly, it just ... plopped out."

Groans. "Now, my analysis," Frohike said. "This is it: I've basically used a virtual trig function &#8211; "

"Is that like a virtual WALL? With "sines" all over it, telling you not to hit it?" Langly asked, sucker in hand.

"Aw geez. Anyway, the long and short of it is: I've got him nailed!" Frohike said with delight.

"God, you better hope he doesn't have YOU nailed! You won't be walking for a week!" Langly said, tonguing his sucker.

Byers was pretty close to rolling in the aisle, Frohike observed. "You're stealing all my thunder, as usual," he sighed. "I've got his position calculated exactly. I looked on the geological survey map and -- "

"You look on that map and can't look at a road map?" Byers asked, astounded.

"Look, different kinds of intelligence, OK?" Frohike said patiently. "It's someplace called Hidden Valley, and it's just about fifty-maybe sixty miles from where the mine site is supposed to be."

Langly couldn't leave it alone. "I take it he lives on Hidden Valley Ranch? No, really, Frohike, marvelous work. Now, let's go get the bastard!"

"Um, it doesn't show any roads going into Hidden Valley, any approach. Um, maybe we could take an ORV? I don't know. It's not going to be easy. Anyway, we should stop at the mine first. To see if ...uh, things... are OK."

"He means, 'to see if SCULLY is OK'!" chortled Langly. "OK, we'll do that, OK, Byers?" he said kindly. Byers nodded.

******************************************************************************

On the way back from the marriage ceremony, Krycek was quiet. "What's the matter, sweetheart?" Mulder called. Krycek shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. Mulder rode up beside him. 

"Does it have anything to do with that cinch strap?" he asked anxiously. 

Krycek looked at him. "Yes, it does. Someone tried to kill me, Mulder. It isn't the first time --and it won't be the last -- but I'd hate to think it could happen here, on the Ranch." 

"Well, can't you just take precautionary measures, and hope it doesn't happen again?"

Krycek laughed bitterly. "It doesn't necessarily work that way, lisitsa. There is only one way of making sure it doesn't happen again."

Mulder fell silent and they rode single-file across the fields. When they got to the fence, Krycek rode Diablo hard at it and clucked him over. Mulder had no such luck. Socks simply stopped (Mulder managed to stay on him this time) and started to graze unconcernedly. Krycek stood up in his stirrups.

"SOCKS!" he bellowed. "GET THE HELL OVER THIS FENCE!"

Damned if his horse's ears didn't come up, then his head, then he was scrambling for the fence, clearing it with more than a foot to spare.

"Wow!" said Mulder. "That was incredible! I didn't know you could train a horse like a dog!"

"Oh, you can't," Krycek said offhandedly. "This horse isn't trained, other than the basics. But he is remarkably intelligent."

"I guess so! Wow! I'm really impressed!" Mulder rode on, shaking his head.

When they got to the fence at the end, Mulder remembered to ride Socks with Diablo and they cleared the fence cleanly, Socks again with a foot to spare.

"He's a natural jumper, all right," said Mulder.

"Yes, he would be a world champion, go to the Olympics, if we could show him." Krycek said.

Back at the house, it wasn't dinnertime so Mulder contented himself with wandering around the main house, looking at books, going through Krycek's video collection and his CD collection. He had just about decided on a Bryan Ferry CD when he heard a commotion outside. There were shouts and sounds of a scuffle. Mulder immediately ran to the window and looked out, and what he saw froze his blood. He ran screaming out the big double doors. 

"Alex! NO!" he yelled. "NO! NO!"

In the middle of the courtyard Dan the houseboy was kneeling. And Krycek had a gun to his head. Krycek didn't look at Mulder. "You tell me," he said from behind clenched teeth, "why I shouldn't pull the trigger? This little bastard --" he kicked at Dan "-- tried to kill me today. I give him everything he could possibly want or need, and this is how he repays me."

"I was your lover, your one and only, then you brought that person in here and I was nothing! How was I supposed to feel?"

Mulder went white. Krycek glanced up at him. "I did not mean for you to hear this, lisitsa," he said, softly. "Now go back inside and play loud music or something."

"So I don't hear the shot?" Mulder asked. "No, Alex, I'm staying right here. You must not do this thing."

Krycek snorted. "So he will come back again to do it right next time? No, I think I will end it now."

The boy began to cry in great wracking sobs. "Please please, Alexei! I will do anything at all! I will go away and not come back!"

"No," said Krycek. "I think you'll die."

"Alex!" Mulder cried. "Please don't -- for me!"

Krycek looked at his stricken face, and he appeared to waver. "All right," he said at last, and the boy threw himself at his feet. "Don't touch me!" he said in disgust, shaking him off.

"I'm sparing your life for the sake of my love and my spouse, Mulder over here. Now, this is what I want you to do, and you'd better do it right, or by God I will track you down and kill you, and maybe it won't be as quick as a gunshot. Go to the stable. Saddle Jeanette, and take food and whatever else you need and ride down the southern side of the valley. There is a pass through the mountains. I will give you a map. On the other side of the second valley, which is called the Sandy River valley, there is a path through redrock -- follow it until you get to the old silver mine. There is a camp there of FBI agents. They will take care of you."

"Oh, thank you thank you Alexei!" the boy yelled, and ran off for the kitchen. Krycek went inside to get a piece of paper, on which he drew a passable map of the area. 

"Minored in art," he murmured.

"Alex, that was a really great thing you did!"

"Think so? I wonder." he said. "I could be damning myself for all eternity if the FBI comes after me up here."

"Alex," Mulder said softly.

"Yes?"

"I think it'll be OK, and even if it isn't, it was the greatest thing you've ever done. Think of all the times you shot first and asked questions later."

A wave of pain seemed to wash over Krycek's face. "I'm s-sorry, Mulder. About your father. I know that sounds pretty flippant just to say, 'I'm sorry' for such a terrible misdeed. But I am sorry."

The boy came in for his map and his final instructions.

"I gave you Jeannette because she's gentle and incredibly surefooted. She will see you safely over the mountains. If you hear the screech of an owl or the scream of a mountain lion, don't fear. They won't hurt you."

Krycek turned to Mulder. "Any messages to give to your senior agent, or to Scully?"

Mulder considered. "Just that I'm fine, in the best of health and incredibly happy. You know, that Agent White and Scully -- naaaw! Just tell them I'm doing great. And that I'm sorry I abandoned the mission."

Krycek looked at him, his eyes glowing. "You haven't abandoned it," he said.

Mulder wondered what that meant.

The boy set out for the stables at a run. "If he takes one of my stallions I WILL kill him," Krycek muttered.

"I think you've got him plenty scared, Alex. He'll be hightailing it out of here pretty fast, and he'll follow your instructions to the letter."

"I hope so." A mounted figure could now be seen leaving the stables at a gallop. "And I hope," he sighed, "I hope he doesn't bring the full mounted, vehicled and armed force of the FBI upon me. I think he might."

"Think so?" Mulder asked. "Don't worry about it so much, Alex." He hugged and kissed him. "Hey," he said, "I'm going to take a swim. Care to join me?"

"In a minute. Which pool will you be at?"

"Oh, the outdoors one. It's pretty hot. Where did you say it was?"

"Right back around by the greenhouses. Right over there," he gestured. "Go ahead," he said. "I have to go in the house and do something."

"OK," Mulder said nonchalantly. When he got to the Olympic-sized pool, he stripped and dove into the water buck naked. He swam five laps and paused to look up. Sure enough, there was Krycek, standing at the edge of the pool near the shallow end. Mulder stood up.

"Get your clothes off, Alex! Now!" he yelled.

"Ooh, and why should I do that, lisitsa?" Krycek purred, leaning forward a bit.

"Because it's wet in here!" Mulder said, reached up and yanked Krycek into the water.

Krycek splashed and spluttered. "Jesus..." he burbled. Then he laughed. Hey Mulder, what is that over there?" He pointed.

Mulder fell for it. "Uh, what?" He turned back around in time to see the tidal wave of water rear itself out of the pool and descend upon him. For a guy with one arm, Mulder thought, Alex Krycek could do remarkable things.

After they'd finished splashing each other, Krycek started awkwardly pulling his clothes off with one hand. Mulder helped him. After they'd gotten everything off, Krycek moved over to the steps, sat down and spread his legs. He was fully erect. "Come here and fuck me," he commanded.

Mulder gasped, and felt his own erection growing rapidly. He walked over to Krycek, trembling, and knelt before him on the bottom step.

"Do it now!" Krycek said. "Take me now!"

Mulder pushed his cock quickly into Krycek, who moaned and writhed. Krycek's hand wandered up to touch himself, but Mulder gently pushed it away. "That's my territory!" He said. He grasped Krycek's cock and slid his hand up and down its length. Krycek groaned.

Mulder kept up the thrusting into Krycek's heat while at the same time hand-fucking his cock and balls.

"Oh, Mulder. That's so fuckin' good!" Alex said, then he leaned his head back to look at the sky. "Mul -der -" and then he screamed, shooting come into the pool. Mulder's orgasm was a second later and he too yelled, coming into Alex's heat.

Alex drew him close and kissed him deeply. Their tongues sought and touched. "I'll never leave you, Alex, " Mulder said, and lay his head on Krycek's chest.

Soon, you will, thought Krycek, but he was silent.

They left each other's embrace reluctantly and climbed out of the pool. 

On the way back to the house, Krycek said, casually, "tomorrow I've got something to show you, Mulder."

"Oh, yeah? What is it? I'm pretty impressed by what you've showed me so far!"

Krycek laughed. "No, this is serious, Mulder. Dead serious. But, you'll see," he said flippantly.

Mulder was silent, wondering what it could be.

They had an early dinner. It was duck a l'orange, and the chef, a bustling little man who looked like Hercule Poirot, served them himself.

"Uh, that houseboy Dan," Mulder began, spearing a forkful of duck.

Krycek looked up quickly, a feral hateful look in his eyes. "What?" he hissed.

"Well, when he gets to the camp, isn't he likely to spill the beans and all that? About this place? Isn't he going to divulge all your little secrets?"

"I have no control over that," Krycek said.

"Was he your lover, then?" Mulder asked it idly but his heart was pounding. Krycek stared at his plate, suddenly not hungry.

"Yes, in the sense that we had sex," Krycek said slowly. Mulder felt a searing flash of jealousy burn its way through him.

"But no, in the sense of emotional involvement. He may have been in love with me and all that, but to me he was just a fuck toy, a plaything."

Mulder was chilled by the callousness of the answer, yet he felt his jealousy subside.

"Oh," he said, and took a swig out of his glass. Some kind of California chardonnay, and not bad. "And what am I to you, then,"

Krycek looked up and sought his eyes. When he found Mulder's beautiful hazel gaze, he stared back. Mulder noticed how large and dark his eyes had gotten.

"You," said Krycek, "Are the love of my life. No one else is even on the same page. You are a constant delight to me. I married you in the hope that we could be together, always."

"Wow!" Mulder said. He could feel the beginnings of a blush. He took another drink of wine. His glass was nearly empty.

"More wine, sir?" the chef asked.

"Yes, please, Hercule," Mulder said, unheeding.

They went to bed early and fell asleep immediately, the soft down comforter pulled up around their chins against the chill of a high-desert night.

Sometime in the night, Krycek awoke. He had been having a dream about the Consortium, and his heart was pounding like crazy. "No," he whispered into the dark, "You can't have it. And you can't have him."

He sighed. He knew what he would have to do, and he could guess the consequences. This is my Gethsemane, he thought. Slick, slippery Alexei Krycek, the Consortium's answer to James Bond, was headed into agony and horror and there was nothing he could do about it. If he fled, no matter where, they would pursue him, they would find him, and then the payback would be so much worse.

He thought, I can retreat into death. He thought about his pistol. So easy to fire a bullet into his brain. They couldn't get to him after that.

No, he thought. I can't do that. I have to be here for Mulder.

He looked at the sleeping form next to him, caressed his face and hair. Mulder must never know.

******************************************************************************

Daniel West, the houseboy, rode as fast as he dared and though the coming night obscured the trail he chose to chance it. He didn't care for the thought of being eaten by a mountain lion. His pinto-spotted mare Jeanette was of mostly Mustang extraction and she never put a foot wrong. Although he was tall and the mare was rather small, she was wiry and strong and carried him as though he were a feather's weight.

He thought of Krycek from time to time, and he wept bitter tears. Why waste time thinking about him, he asked himself, dashing the tears from his eyes. He cared nothing for me. I was just a toy.

He felt bad about the cinch. He didn't mean to kill Krycek, just scare him a little. I hate him, he thought. And I love him.

Dan clucked to Jeannette to urge her on. She broke into a slow rocking-chair canter. He knew that this was probably too fast a gait for this trail, but he didn't care. On they went.

I hope the people in this camp won't hurt me, he thought.

******************************************************************************

"Hey Langly."

"What?" Langly had been sleeping and didn't have a sucker in his mouth, but his hand crept toward his pocket.

"Why'd we pull over? Is this a rest stop? I don't see any bathrooms?"

Langly yawned, showing lots of fillings. "Byers is probably looking at the maps or something."

Byers stuck his head in a window. "Hey guys! Come check this out!"

They piled out of the van. Langly carefully unwrapped a lemon sucker, and Frohike stretched.

"Come look at this map."

"Yeah?"

"It shows you take a left at State Route 15 to get toward where we are going, but --"

"But what?"

Byers tapped his chin thoughtfully. "After that, it doesn't show any roads."

They crowded around the map. The sucker went in.

"The FBI's got maps," said Frohike. "After all, they drove up there, right?"

They regarded him with surprise. Langly sucked on his lollipop like crazy.

"Bet they've got 'em online. Let's find a phone line, guys!" Frohike said.

"No, wait," Byers exclaimed, holding up a hand. "I do see a road in the general direction we want to go. It looks paved."

The sucker popped out, and waved over the map. "The actual road leading into the camp might be dirt or gravel and might not show up on any maps."

"We're at the crossroads of 70 and 15. Let's turn left on 15, and then we shall see what we shall see."

"Do we get to see Bryce and Zion Canyons?" Frohike asked hopefully.

"Maybe on our way back, Frohike."

"OK."

They piled into the van, Frohike driving now. "Boy, this isn't much of a road," he said critically.

"Hey, at least it is paved," said Byers from the back seat. "We're likely to run into much worse than this."

******************************************************************************

Scully went about her business in the camp, which consisted of taking care of the Kirlian equipment at all three sites, loading tapes, viewing them and so on. She had volunteered for this job and White didn't want it, so it was all hers.

She hiked the mile into Park City and looked around. False-fronted buildings, a hitching post, what had been a horse trough -- all quiet, all inanimate, nothing to be afraid of. Yet, standing in the hot desert air, she felt a chill. She shivered, thinking of that "goose walking over my grave" expression.

"This old town is haunted," she said to no one in particular, and was surprised when she was answered. In fact, she jumped and then turned around. It was Agent White.

"I would have to agree with you," he said gravely, walking toward her. "I already checked out the Kirlian equipment and put new tapes in it, so you don't have to do that, but perhaps you'd lend a hand on analysis of the data."

"Of course, I'll do anything you want, " she remarked.

"Anything?" he asked seriously, and moved closer.

She looked up at him. He really was very handsome. 

She tilted her head up for a kiss that burned her through and through.

"More," she said, when the kiss ended and he drew back. He kissed her again, long, deeply and thoroughly. Scully felt his erection and thought her legs would go out from under her.

White looked into her eyes, blue ice to blue fire. "Dana," he said. "No one can see us here. I want to make love to you."

She nodded. "Oh my God, yes."

Within moments they were nude. White decided to bend Scully over the horizontal bar of the hitching post, and he entered her from the rear. Scully moaned. White reached underneath the bar to get at her clitoris, and Scully almost screamed.

"Now," said White, as he thrust. "Just in case you were thinking of that Agent Mulder, consider this: [thrust] Agent [thrust] Mulder [thrust] isn't' [thrust] inside you [thrust] fucking [thrust] the hell out of you [thrust]. With each thrust, a little shriek came from Scully, until she said, "oh God, I'm gonna come!"

White increased the depth of his penetration and the speed of his thrusts, and just as Scully was starting to scream, he came, shot hot white come into her and yelling her name.

They separated and Scully stood up. "Oh my God, oh my God," she said. White had poured so much semen into her that a lot of it was dribbling down her leg. She laughed.

"God, that was great!" She leaned toward him. "You are the best lover I've ever had, by far!"

He kissed her fervently. "Thank you, and I can say the same for you."

They got dressed and walked back hand-in-hand, until they were close enough to camp that someone might see them.

"You know," she said idly, "We don't exactly practice safe sex. I'm not worried about disease, but I am concerned about pregnancy."

He turned to her. "Dana, if I got you pregnant, that child would be the most wonderful gift anyone could ever give me! I would be there to raise the child with you."

"Wow!" she said, startled. It was not a bad idea, really. Then she thought: Mulder.

White saw her expression change and knew she was thinking of...HIM...

"Mulder is gay, Dana. Don't ever forget that. Moreover, Krycek has him."

She looked at him sharply. He could read thoughts?

******************************************************************************

Daniel had ridden through the night, and dawn found him still going. He wasn't going to risk that devil, Krycek, catching up to him.

Krycek was quite simply the most evil person he'd ever known or imagined. Even those Consortium bastards were at least polite to him, although the really tall old guy insisted on smoking inside the house. Krycek, though, had used him over the last year and had then thrown him away like Kleenex. What made it especially bad was that Krycek had told him repeatedly that he loved him.

The mare came to a stop in the pine forest and neighed shrilly. "What's the matter, girl, what's wrong?" Dan asked with concern. He leaned left and right, straining into the darkness. He couldn't see anything at all but the ghostly trunks of aspen and pine marching away into the night. He clucked to Jeannette, and urged her on with his leg. She didn't budge but stood snorting, trying to get the scent of what, he did not know.

Then he heard it, a loud scream like a woman's, to his right up the hill. Oh, God. Mountain lion! The mare jumped. She tried to take the bit and she looked back toward her rider, rolling her eyes. "Whoo, Jeannette," he said shakily. "Whoo, girl!"

The scream came again, closer, and this time on his left. The lion must have crossed the trail behind them! Dan thought wildly, what should I do? He was unarmed except for a Swiss Army knife. He decided that they would try to outrun it. He urged his already sweaty mount into a trot, then a canter. The scream came again, on their right but a little further off. Maybe, thought Dan, just maybe we can get away from it.

He clapped his legs to his horse's side and Jeannette took off like a rocket, galloping down the trail which wasn't steep here, just dark. As he had trusted her earlier, he trusted the good sense and surefootedness of his mare to get them down the hill safely. They heard the mountain lion scream again, once, but distantly, and they knew they'd outrun it. But we can't camp tonight, Dan thought, breathing as hard as Jeannette. We can't rest until we get to the FBI camp.

Negotiating their way through the rest of the pine forest, they'd seemed to have come out in the open now. Ahead of them a few miles, he knew, was a pinyon stand, then open desert among the redrock. It wouldn't be mountain lion country, particularly, and they'd be safe. Oh, he knew there were coyotes, of course, and there were reputed to be wolves in these parts still, but they wouldn't bother him.

Dan paused to let the mare catch her breath. He squeezed a few tears back and dismounted, pouring a little water from a milk jug into a small plastic bucket. "Here, girl, have a little water," he said, offering it to her, and she pressed her muzzle against his arm affectionately before taking the water.

He stood and looked around him. To the East, he could see the first light of dawn. In a few hours, and they could take it more easily now, he would be in the FBI installation, and he would be safe. He just knew that this Commander White, or whatever his name was, would be a good person. They wouldn't let anything happen to him there.

Only after the mare had drunk and had a little cracked corn in a nosebag did Daniel drink out of the water bottle and eat some trail mix. "Made by Krycek," he thought with distaste but ate it anyway. When the mare had stopped eating, Dan buckled the bucket and the nosebag back to the saddle, put his foot in the stirrup and mounted.

The trail turned gradually to the left here, towards the South. "Towards Freedom!" his heart said jubilantly and he clucked to Jeannette.

******************************************************************************

"Langly?"

A sucker rolled around. "Porter."

"What?"

"It's this big famous psych hospital in California."

"Oh, you've stayed there then?"

"Frohike."

"What?"

"Get Byers. He's pissed."

Frohike sat up. "Why you say that?"

"Do you have to talk in Instant Messages?"

"It's an economical way to speak."

Langly gestured with a sucker. It was green today. "He's slowing down."

"So? He always does that when he's concentrating. The other drivers just love it."

"Byers, what's up?" Frohike called, from the back of the van.

"Ggglllthmp," Byers observed, stopping the van.

They all piled out. The vehicle was, as usual in the middle of the road, but there was no traffic visible anywhere. A desert breeze blew, hot and harsh.

Langly stretched. "God, Langly, use deodorant before you do that again," said Frohike idly.

Byers was crouching, bent over the map. "Shit!" He said.

"Byers, you're obscene!" remarked Langly.

"Well, take a look at this. Looks like we went the wrong way."

Frohike approached with interest. "You mean we should have turned left on Route 133 instead of right?"

Byers looked up. "Yep," he said.

Langly popped his sucker out, "HAW! That was your watch, Frohike!"

"Was not!" said Frohike with dignity. "It was yours, Langly!"

The sucker popped back in. "Shit! Maybe it was!" He mumbled. "Well, I couldn't see a thing in that rainstorm, and so I just went with my heart!"

Frohike grinned. "In that case, you need to see a cardiologist!"

"Well, it doesn't matter who was responsible," said Byers, straightening up, "We need to turn around and go back the other way, and we need to do it right away!"

"Well, guys," Frohike said, "We'd better do it really fast. Look, let me drive and we'll make good time. I drive really fast! No offense, Byers, but I'm not afraid to break the speed limit laws!"

Langly popped the sucker in. "There are no speed limits out here in the wild, wild west!"

******************************************************************************

Mulder woke up, yawned, stretched. Krycek was pulling open the drapes and the warm desert morning sun splashed his face like honey.

"What's up today, Alex," he asked.

Krycek walked over to the bed and kissed Mulder long and hungrily. "I'm up," he answered "and you soon will be."

He left but soon came back with a tray. "Breakfast in bed," he said and placed the tray on the bed.

Mulder was touched. "That's really nice, Alex!" On the tray was an English muffin, poached eggs, bacon, sausage, butter and jam, salt and a pitcher of -- orange juice?

"That's just OJ, Mulder. We have work to do today. You can have some wine or whatever when we get back." Was there tension in his voice?

Mulder ate his breakfast while Krycek bustled around the room, laying out a clean change of clothes for Mulder. "We're going riding today," he said matter-of-factly.

Mulder groaned. He was a bit sore from yesterday, and riding horses was not at the top of his priority list.

"I have something I need to show you," said Krycek, coming to stand by the bed and looking at Mulder seriously.

"Wow, I can't even imagine what that might be!" said Mulder. And after yesterday's jaunt, he really couldn't. He looked at his right hand, at the wide gold band on his ring finger. Krycek wore one, too, on his hand. So it had really happened -- they were married, at least in the eyes of God and the Navajo tribe, anyway.

Krycek observed him. "Never take that ring off, Lisitsa!" He said fervently. "It will bring you luck!" He leaned forward and kissed Mulder, then picked up the tray. "Time to get up! We must be on our way!"

Mulder groaned and heaved himself out of bed, heading for the shower. "Hey, wait a minute!" Krycek called. "Go into the shower and sit on a bench," Mulder did this and Krycek bent over him. Mulder could feel his cock rapidly getting hard. "I'm going to suck you off, Mulder," he said, and bent to Mulder's cock.

"You're fully clothed," said Mulder in amazement. "Yes, that's all right. This one is just for you, lisa," said Krycek. 

He tongued the tip of Mulder's cock and Mulder moaned, spreading his legs.

Krycek licked the length of Mulder's cock and Mulder groaned. Then he sucked it in to the root. Mulder gasped. "Oh, yes, Alex, oh!" He panted.

Alex sucked and Mulder fucked his mouth, loving the hot mouth on his cock. Finally Mulder stiffened and came in a shuddering rush into Alex's mouth.

Krycek swallowed and withdrew. "Shower time, Mulder," he announced.

Mulder arose with an effort and turned on the hot sluicing stream of water.

When he'd finished, Krycek was there waiting for him. "Towel," he said, passing the fluffy Egyptian cotton towel to Mulder. "Clothes," when he had done, and "You don't have time for a blow-dry, Mulder." Mulder dressed in silence. What was this Nazi morning act about?

They walked out into the courtyard and Bill Runningwater the Navajo vet cum minister was holding two horses for them. One was Socks and the other was a tall blood-bay Thoroughbred who looked like a racer. They were both saddled and bridled English style. Mulder hoped no jumping was in the offing. He was given a leg up by Runningwater and landed the correct way in the saddle, thank God. Socks snorted.

Krycek mounted gracefully and urged his horse left. "We're going up the south side of the valley," he called back to Mulder, who was trying to engage his horse in gear. Oh, yeah...he nudged the gelding and clucked to him. Socks' ears flicked backward, then forward, and he started walking. Hey, he was getting to be pretty good with this horsemanship stuff.

The path didn't lead over any fences this time, and Mulder felt grateful for that. They started to climb, and Mulder was curious about their destination this time. Krycek was as usual close-mouthed about it.

At a wide spot in the trail he halted Guardian, the bay Thoroughbred. "OK," he said, "dismount, Mulder!"

Mulder did as he was told. What was going on here? Krycek dismounted and without preamble removed his clothes in a few swift motions, indicating Mulder do the same.

"Tie the horses to these trees," he indicated, throwing Mulder a halter. Mulder clumsily placed the halter on Socks, bumping his head a few times and getting the reins tangled up with the halter lead. Socks, easy-going, took it philosophically. Mulder tied him to the tree and Krycek did likewise with Guardian. 

Krycek came over to Mulder and kissed him deeply, tongue probing every part of Mulder's mouth. Mulder kissed him back, struggling with his jeans. There! They were off!

Krycek pulled away from him. "OK, Mulder, get up on Guardian. Here, I'll give you a leg up. He's taller than Socks!" He helped Mulder up, then instructed him, "OK, now slide backwards on the saddle as far as you can...that's it!"

Krycek mounted Guardian backwards, so that he faced Mulder.

"Ah, now I see, at least I think I'm beginning to see!" said Mulder. 

"Yes!" said Krycek. He leaned back against the horse's neck, pushing his ass in the air as far as he could. "I'm yours, Mulder, do as you will!"

Krycek sported a sizable erection and in a moment so did Mulder. "Uh," he said, leaning over Krycek, "here you go!"

He took Krycek's cock in his mouth, all at once, hard. Krycek gasped. "Oh Mulder that's it, take it all!" His hand in the horse's mane tightened. 

Mulder sucked him and sucked him until Krycek looked ready to come, then he squinched forward a little in the saddle and penetrated him, dry. "There's...lube..." Krycek gasped, then moaned and Mulder shoved his full length into him.

"Fuck me, Mulder, fuck me with that great big co--" and then he came, squirting all over Mulder's belly. Mulder was soon to follow, screaming Alex's name into the trees. He withdrew from Krycek and they embraced for a moment.

"Got to go," Krycek said thickly, wriggling free and dismounting. Mulder wasn't sure of the dismount from this big horse, and he sort of half fell off, landing on his side. 

"Oof," was his comment. He picked himself up and pulled on his shorts, jeans and shirt.

"OK, Mulder," Krycek said, his beryl eyes glowing, "Now we get to the mission. Why we're here."

"Huh? I thought we were here for a nice ride."

Krycek looked at him and said nothing.

They mounted their horses and rode upward. Mulder noticed another red-tailed hawk, way up in the sky, circling. "That hawk is the harbinger of ... things... in several Indian traditions," he muttered.

Krycek looked but said nothing.

After a couple of hours' ride they came to a small cave opening onto the trail.

"This is it," said Krycek, tightly, and swung off his horse. Mulder dismounted and they approached the opening of the cave.

"Looks excavated," Mulder remarked 

"It is," muttered the other man. Mulder looked at him.

"Should we go in, or what," he asked.

"We should," said Krycek, and dropped to his knees. Mulder followed him as they crawled into the cave on their knees. They went about ten feet when Mulder became aware of a glow ahead. The cave opened up and became high enough to stand up in.

"Here it is," indicated Krycek. He was pointing at the glowing thing, and was keeping his distance. Mulder approached. It seemed to be a hunk of rock or something, and it was sending off radiant energy, so brightly that it hurt to look at it. 

Krycek tried to put his hand on it, but a force field of electrical or other energy forced him back. There was a flash and a crackle and he withdrew with a yelp. "See?" He said sheepishly. "None of us can touch it. Not even Bill Runningwater. Now you try Mulder."

"What, so I can get shocked or burned or whatever?" Mulder asked irritably.

"No, you won't be, Mulder. That's the point." Said Krycek patiently.

Mulder approached the object. He reached out his hands, expecting serious pain. There was nothing. He placed his hand on the object and raised it.

Krycek laughed triumphantly. "It's true, oh, it's true!" he crowed. "You are The One!"

Mulder looked at him. "Oh...my vision! Wow." He said. He was still doubtful. "The One"? He, Mulder? It couldn't be. He was so unimportant!

But you are important, said a voice in his head, and Krycek smiled at him.

Had he just read a thought? Had Krycek just read a thought?

Yes, Mulder. The Talisman confers special powers on those who can wield it!

Mulder looked at Krycek in awe, then at the cave, then at the thing in his hands.

"Let's get out where I can take a look at this," he said thickly.

They crawled out of the cave, Mulder cradling the Talisman in one hand.

When they reached the light of day, Mulder stood blinking for a moment. Then he looked at the object in his hand.

"Wow!" he said softly. "Krycek, it appears to be a turquoise object imbedded in darker stone, like amethyst I think. Look, it is Coyote, the Trickster!" he pointed to the turquoise figure that looked like a wolf, head pointed up in a howl.

Krycek looked with interest, but he kept his distance.

"Look, there are markings in the amethyst. I can't tell for sure, but they look like the Navajo writing on the...spaceship we found washed up on the..." His speech became slower. He looked at Krycek hard.

"This has something to do with the aliens, doesn't it?"

Krycek looked down.

Mulder swung into his saddle, still holding the Talisman, and Krycek walked toward Guardian.

"This better not be part of some Consortium plot, Krycek, or I'll wring your pretty little neck."

Krycek mounted silently, his head cast down, appearing to consider. "No," he said, swinging the stallion around. "It was, Mulder, but it isn't now. You must leave to complete the mission, Mulder. You must leave here and go back to your people, back to the camp. When you get there you will receive instruction on what to do."

Mulder, riding his horse alongside Krycek's, said quietly, "Number one, what the hell are you talking about? And number two, tell me more about this Consortium plot that was but isn't now."

"Uh," said Krycek. "You can trot downhill here. Riding English, Mulder, you rise like this," he demonstrated. "It's called posting. All speed, now!"

He rode his horse ahead at a rapid trot. Mulder followed, not doing very well with the posting. He kept banging his butt. "You haven't answered my questions," he called. "What Consortium plot? And is this part of it? I'm gonna fucking kill you, Krycek!"

Krycek called, "Don't worry about it!" Which only made Mulder madder.

They swung into the ranchlands about 2 in the afternoon. Krycek kept glancing around him anxiously, as if expecting to be pursued. Fifteen minutes later they rode their horses into the courtyard. Bill Runningwater appeared from an outbuilding to take Socks and Guardian.

"What's that?" he asked, eyeing the glowing object in Mulder's left hand. "Oh, you've got the Talisman! Good!" he said.

Mulder looked at him oddly. "You know about this?"

"Oh yes, I've tried to lift it many times. Can't do it!" He said sadly.

They went into the house and Krycek immediately fetched what looked like a diplomatic pouch. "See? It's lined with lead," he said gravely. He then instructed Mulder to wrap the Talisman in a roll's worth of heavy aluminum foil, then place it in the pouch. Mulder pointed out that the pouch still glowed, despite the protective metal. "Well, that can't be helped," said Krycek.

"Tell me about this Consortium plot," said Mulder.

Krycek sighed. "Well, it's like this. The Consortium wants that Talisman. They want to use it as a bargaining chip with the Aliens. They instructed me to find you and lure you up here. They knew that if they just landed at the FBI camp with helicopters and guns, there would be a big fight, the Army would be called out, and you might die in the crossfire. There would go their plans."

"Why not just get the Talisman themselves."

"You saw how the Talisman fights against being touched. Believe me, it has the power to sear through a backhoe or something like that, if it wanted to. It has the power to kill. They can't get it. Only you."

"So basically," Mulder said mildly, but he could feel rage rising, "I was just a pawn in all this, and you fetched me not because you love me, but for the Consortium. And I was just a toy to you, like that houseboy you nearly killed."

There. He'd said it. Krycek looked stricken, and he lowered his head. When he looked up again, his eyes were glowing green emeralds. "Mulder, yes I got you for the Consortium's purposes, but Mulder, I do love you. You were not my toy, Mulder! Mulder I married you for chrissakes!"

Mulder looked up at him. Just when he'd been getting comfortable with Krycek, this. He gazed into the beryl eyes. They were inscrutable, unknowable. "When do I have to leave?" he asked.

******************************************************************************

The blond young man had come to the edge of the wash. He looked down. There didn't appear to be a way down per se, but he knew his tough mustang mare could make one. "C'mon, Jeannette, down we go!" He hung on down the descent, rode quickly across the creek, and then up again. He noticed footprints on the floor of the draw and tire marks on the other side, and his heart rose. They were on the right track.

He urged his horse on, going as fast as she could. "I'm gonna give you a medal, baby," he crooned. Then he started to sing. He had a nice voice, and the mare switched her ears back and forth appreciatively. He started with "End of the Line," by the Doors, singing that mournful dirge several times before he switched to an upbeat Beatles song.

******************************************************************************

About 1:30 in the afternoon, Giordini, who was officially on break, stepped outside the tent with that creature in it and raised his binoculars to the horizon. He didn't know what he expected to find; he just enjoyed looking. 

He noticed a small cloud of dust on the horizon, which gradually became bigger. He trained his glasses on the dust cloud and could discern a man on a pinto horse. He couldn't tell what the man looked like yet.

Jennings put his head out of the door. As usual, he had neglected to comb his wild white hair and it stuck up in all directions. "Giordini!!" he bellowed. "Break's over! Get back in here!"

Giordini turned to him. "Boss, there's a cowboy or someone out there, riding really fast!"

"Huh? Give me the binocs!" Jennings looked through them. "Yep, he's coming fast! Look, why don't you just run on down to the Camp and find Agent White and tell him?"

Giordini welcomed the break. "Sure boss!"

He walked down to the camp and located White, who was deep in conversation with that Scully by the Kirlian machine. "Agent White," he began respectfully. White looked up. "What, Giordini?"

"There's a guy on a horse and he's headed here really fast!"

"Oh," whispered White. "Wonder if it's Krycek or Mulder."

He borrowed Giordini's glass and raised them to his eyes, studying the figure for a long time. "No," he finally said. "It's not Krycek or Mulder. The guy has blond curly hair, what I can see of it. He and the horse are covered with dust."

"Let me see!" Scully asked. She too looked and shook her head. "I've never seen him," she said.

"Whoever he is, we need to arrange a welcoming committee for him," said White. "I'll go out with several agents. Giordini, please go get me agents Weeks, Johansen and Grubowski."

He turned to Scully. "Would you like to help too?" Scully nodded.

"Oh, definitely." She checked her Sig in her waistband.

They went and stood just outside of camp, guns drawn. The rider galloped up and came to a full perfect Western cowhorse-sliding stop. Then he noticed the guns.

"I-- I'm not armed," he stuttered. "I came from Hidden Valley. I-I was thrown out by Krycek. M-May I dismount? I-I'm pretty tired."

White nodded and the man slid out of his saddle. He was covered in red dust, as was the horse, which did appear to be a pinto, and which stood shaking and heaving for air. White noticed how young the man was, maybe not even 20. 

"I came here... hard riding...started yesterday evening..."

The agents looked at him, astonished. Fifty miles over the wild mountains in 18 or so hours? That was amazing!

"Krycek is... Krycek has Mulder. He's OK but ...the Consortium..."

Gradually they began to holster their guns. "What about the Consortium?" White asked sharply.

The young man looked at him, opened his mouth then his legs buckled under him. Scully, White and Johansen caught him as he fell. He was carried to the infirmary tent. Scully took his temp, blood pressure and pulse. All were essentially normal, considering what he'd been through. Scully looked at the unconscious man, shaking her head. He was tall and slim with curly dark-blond hair and an angelic face, and he appeared to be only 18 or 19 years old. "What did Krycek do to you?" she murmured, touching his shoulder gently.

White, who had been watching from the doorway, said, "When Krycek shows up next time, I'll have him arrested. I'm going to ambush him."

Scully looked up. "If and when Krycek shows up, I'm going to kill him," she said, her blue eyes blazing.

White walked to her, and took her in his arms. "My fierce little darling," he said, and kissed her. The kiss left her trembling. "More tonight," he whispered. "My tent. We'll just be quiet."

She nodded and looked at him as he left. Was she falling in love with this guy?

******************************************************************************

Mulder followed Krycek into the vast kitchen. "What do you want to eat?" Krycek asked distractedly, running a hand through his spiky hair.

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh, but you will be, here, I'll get some tuna -- you can have a tuna sandwich. How's that?"

"All right." Krycek made him the sandwich and Mulder dutifully ate it. Krycek had a couple of hard-boiled eggs and a bagel.

"I've made up my mind -- we have to leave soon. Really soon."

Mulder looked up from his sandwich. "'We'?" "'Leave'?" "'Soon'?" He queried. "Where are we going, and why in such a hurry?"

"I have to get you over the hill, soon, Mulder. Back home. To the installation. The sooner the better, I mean," he finished lamely. "Before something happens to you. I feel you are no longer safe here."

Mulder gazed at him. Krycek was the one he was no longer safe with, he thought.

Mulder finished his sandwich. "Ready?" Krycek asked.

"I guess so," Mulder said. He followed Krycek out the big double doors to the courtyard. "Take a good look around, Mulder," he said tersely.

Bill Runningwater had their horses ready. He had changed the tack to Western. "More practical, in the mountains," Krycek observed. "I decided to take Guardian -- he's fast. He was a racer, you know. Won Thoroughbred 2-year-old Horse of the Year a couple years ago. You have Socks -- he's pretty fast and he jumps." Mulder wondered miserably about the jumping. 

"Aren't we going back the same way we came?" he asked.

"No," said Krycek, swinging into the saddle. "We're not. We're going up that way," he said, pointing to Mount Kayani. "Less chance of being pursued," he explained.

Mulder's heart sank down to his shoes. "Well, shit," he said conversationally.

"Get on your horse, Mulder."

"I'm a gettin'," he said, mounting Socks.

They turned the horses and Socks followed Guardian across a field -- there were gates on this side -- and to the trailhead.

"After a mile or so this isn't much of a trail," Krycek called back. "There will be things in the road, rocks, brush, downed trees. You can jump 'em or go around 'em, if you can. You can jump in that saddle. Lean forward, and remember to give the horse his head."

Great, Mulder thought. Just great. He sulked about this and thought about the Consortium thing. Should he hate Alex? He didn't know.

True to Krycek's word, after about a mile the trail became narrower, and then petered down to nothing. Now the horses had to pick their way carefully around the rocks, bushes and branches in their way. The going was slow and tedious. Mulder wondered whether Krycek had made the right decision, going back this way.

As he'd find out, Krycek felt the same way. He called a halt and the horses stood blowing. The last part had been a bit of a climb. "Mulder," he said, "I've made a mistake. We came the wrong way. I don't remember all this crap in the way. We'll have to go back the other way."

Mulder was vastly relieved. "Oh, thank God!" he said, "Krycek, I don't know how much more of that I could have taken!" He consulted his watch. It was 5:00. "Were we supposed to be in some particular place by nightfall?"

Krycek pursed his lips. "I was hoping to be farther along," was all he said.

They turned the horses around and trotted down the road. Even their mounts seemed to be happy that they were choosing a different route. Their steps were high and their carriage, jaunty.

They full-out galloped across the valley floor and started up the trail they should have used in the first place.

******************************************************************************

"Langly."

Sounds of chewing a sucker. "Yeah, Froggy?"

"What time is it?"

"Aren't you wearing a watch? It's 5:00," and the sucker popped out. "Hey, the van's stopped!" he exclaimed.

Byers was out reading a map. Langly and Frohike piled out. They seemed to be at a crossroads. No living thing except sagebrush was to be seen. The rocky hills in the mid-distance were beautiful shades of russet, red, orange, coral, pink and lilac. Frohike admired the rock formations while Langly and Byers conferred.

"I fear, I think that we should have turned left at Route 279," Byers said seriously. Langly popped his sucker in. "Man, we're too tired to be lost again!" he said.

Frohike approached. "Want my opinion?" he asked.

"Yeah, whatever!" Langly said.

"I think we're on the right road..." he said slowly. "And I think -- I think -- five miles down the road is the graded dirt road that'll take us to the camp. It's thirty miles long. It winds and it..it is difficult to navigate.. and..it will take us a while."

Two sets of eyes, watching him; two men considering.

"Never thought you'd go acey-spacey on us," said Langly, reprovingly. His sucker lay limply in his hand.

Byers looked at him, then at Frohike. "I think," he said, clearing his throat, "I think we'll trust little Frohike. There is something about him that is more than sincere."

"It's spooky?" queried Langly, and the sucker went in.

Byers looked at him. He looked at Frohike. Come on!" He said.

******************************************************************************

At dinner at 6:00, Scully sat between two of her favorite people, Agents White and Harris. It was steak, baked potatoes and salad. Normally Scully didn't eat such a meat-rich diet, but she was hungry and glad to get anything. White watched her and laughed. "I like a woman with a good appetite," he said, raising one eyebrow. She smiled and dug into her steak. What she didn't see was the two agents exchanging grins. Janice Harris gave White the thumbs-up sign.

"Talked to that fellow who came in today," she said.

"What, the demon on the paint horse?" Janice asked.

Scully smiled. "Yep, him. Couldn't get much out of him," she said, demolishing a piece of steak. She looked at White, not knowing whether she could discuss the Consortium in front of Harris. He mouthed, "she knows," so Scully continued.

"He didn't say much about the Consortium, probably doesn't want to talk about it, just said that he thought -- her throat caught in a sob that came welling up from nowhere, "he thought that, uh --" both Harris and White put a hand on her shoulder, "Mulder was in danger from them!"

It required a moment to compose herself. "I'm OK," she said hastily, and wiped a tear from her eye before continuing. "He mostly told me about Krycek, what Krycek had done to him, how Krycek nearly killed him, --"

"How did he do that? What do you mean?" White asked, his forkful of baked potato pausing in mid-air.

"It seems that he did something to piss Krycek off -- just what that was he wouldn't say -- and Krycek very nearly shot him in the head. It was only Mulder's intervention that saved him."

"So Mulder has some influence over him, does he?" White mused.

"Yes, he has. Daniel West seems to think that Krycek is gone on Mulder and even had a Navajo Indian priest or something perform a marriage ceremony for them, " she said drily.

"Wow! So they, in fact, are in love with each other," he said. "Janice, what do you think?" She had been listening quietly but intently.

"I think it's likely true. Mulder told me they had some kind of encounter before this and that he's always been intensely attracted to Krycek, and Krycek to him."

White leaned back in his chair. "Hmm," he said.

As they were leaving the table, White whispered in Scully's ear "Dana...tonight at nightfall. Come to my tent." She nodded and smiled at him. But she was thinking of Mulder. She was so terribly worried about him..

At 8 PM, after having performed nightly ablutions, and put on underwear under her clothes that wasn't too bad, she left her tent and headed for White's. On the way she passed that Giordini. For some reason, she didn't like him. She saw him duck into the medical supplies tent. Wonder what he wanted, the greasy little bastard, she thought.

Scully paused at White's tent and stuck her head in the door. "Hi!" She called softly. "Hi!" he said. "Come in!" She came in, gasping in awe. Everywhere were candles -- she recognized many emergency supply candles but several were high-quality decorative candles of all shapes, colors and sizes. And they were all lit. On his CD player was Enya, and incense was burning. She shook her head. This was simply unbelievable.

"Don't you like it?" he asked, coming to stand by her. "I thought it was a great way to create atmosphere. The fancy candles are Janice Harris's of course."

"Oh -- does she know about us?"

"Oh, Jan knows everything. Now, come here!" He spread his arms wide.

She obliged and he embraced her. She smelled his scent, a mixture of clean skin, aftershave and she knew not what, and she tilted her head up for a kiss. He kissed her deeply. He tasted like those peppermint thingies. 

He picked her up and carried her to the cot, which was piled high with pillows at one end. He undid her blouse and kissed her throat, her chest and her breasts. She wriggled out of her shorts and underwear, and he undressed, all the time watching her. She looked at him. He had a very beautiful, slim but broad-chested and long-legged body, and he was enormously erect.

He came to sit on the bed. "What we're going to do is a modification of Tantric sex," he whispered. "Yes," he said, watching her reaction, "I have studied Eastern religions extensively. This is what we'll do: You sit up against those pillows, spread your legs. Good. Now, me, I'll kneel and penetrate you -- like so -- very ...slowly. Like this," and he demonstrated.

"Ah. Oh!" Said Scully.

"Now, Dana, we have a decision to make. We can either TRY to be quiet and stifle the noise, or we can yell away and let the whole camp know."

"Oh. Well. Let's try to be quiet, OK, and see how it goes?" she asked a little anxiously.

"Sure!" he laughed. "Now sit up -- that's good -- here I go," he said. She felt his cock penetrate her again and it felt like the best thing in the world.

White moved slowly, ever so slowly. He leaned over her to cup her breasts, to play with the nipples that were already hard; to kiss her, long and lingeringly; to run his hands through her hair; to kiss her face.

Scully felt it building gradually, very gradually, over the course of maybe an hour. "Oh..Ah.. I think I'm gonna come!" she whispered. He chuckled. "Let it happen, Dana,"

And so it came to pass that Scully looked into the blazing blue eyes of David White's, so like her own, and came in great shuddering gasps. Shortly after he gripped her ass and came pouring into her, shouting her name.

They lay in a tangle of limbs. Scully was giggling. "Now the whole camp knows." He made a dismissive gesture. "Ah, let 'em. Dana?"

"Hmm?"

"Let's do that again?" Scully looked at him, startled, and saw that he had become hard again. "My god, you 're like a 20-year-old kid!" Scully whispered, startled.

"Yes, I am," White said nonchalantly. "Round two!"

They made love all night long, and didn't fall asleep until around 4 in the morning. Scully snuck out of his tent at six to go to hers, but she'd fooled no one. At the breakfast table there were many winks and claps on the back for White; speculative glances for her.

Scully rolled her eyes. Really. How childish people were.

******************************************************************************

Giordini had had Daniel West. Had him in the ass. Had him in the mouth. And he, Giordini, had sucked his cock, and a most tasty one it was.

He accomplished the deed by stealing 20 Valium from the medicine chest in the medical supplies tent -- White hadn't remembered to lock it after getting the Scully bitch her most recent batch --and slipping it into the animal's evening glass of wine. It was so easy. Jennings had gone right to sleep and had slept through the action on Giordini's cot. And off Giordini's cot. They'd gotten pretty wild.

While Krycek's houseboy wasn't quite the same as Krycek, he was a beautiful young man, very cowed, very willing, and therefore a lot of fun. He, Giordini, had fucked him dry, slapped him around, pierced his nipples with self-piercing rings, gagged him with his cock and done any number of delightful things to him. Daniel took it all.

Giordini whistled as he walked to work. On the way he passed that Scully again. She turned and gave him the evil eye. She didn't like him, for some reason. Oh, well, he didn't like her either.

Scully arrived at the infirmary tent and walked in expecting to see her charge lying on the table. He wasn't. White's voice behind her startled her. "He's supposed to be here -- where the hell is he?" He asked.

"I don't know, and I have a bad feeling about it," she responded. "I suggest we get a couple more agents and search every tent."

They found him five minutes later in Jennings' and Giordini's tent. Jennings was out cold and they could not rouse him.

"Another patient for the infirmary," Scully said, concerned. Then they looked at Giordini's bed, and gasped. Daniel West was lying in the fetal position and rocking himself. They went immediately to him

"Shit!" Scully swore. The young man was bleeding from every orifice and from numerous piercings and excoriations. "Giordini did this?"

"Looks like it, " White said grimly. "Let's get these guys to the infirmary. Then I'll go and get Giordini," he said.

They called on Johansen and Grubowski to help them with the patients. When they'd gotten them settled, White took off for the mine. "Hey -- Scully called. "Don't you need backup?" White turned to her. "No, I'm fine. Really. I can handle the little bastard by myself."

Scully nodded. She wished she could help, but these patients needed her too. She removed the rings from Daniel, cleaned him up, bandaged him and prepared three shots. One was IM Dicloxacillin, an antibiotic and another was Valium, both for Daniel, and the other, she thought wryly, was Phenytoin, to counteract the effects of whatever sedative Jennings had been given, probably Valium.

She administered the injections and then went round and fetched the other physician on-site, a Dr. Miller. He exclaimed with horror at the patients' sorry state and hoped Giordini, or whatever his name was, would pay.

Scully made sure both patients were comfortable then slipped out and ran up the hill, pulling her Sig as she went. White was just slipping the handcuffs round Giordini's hands as she ran up.

"See -- no trouble," he said, "no trouble at all."

Giordini looked sullen and angry, as though he'd been arrested for no reason. "I didn't do it --must have been someone else!" he said. Scully's lip curled in disgust. Suddenly she wanted to hit him. White must have seen it in her eye, because he laid a restraining hand on her arm. "Dana --"

"Dana! Dana!" Giordini spat. "You two make me sick! You a big stud or something, White, cause you could have fooled me! As for you, you slut! The only bigger slut than you is Mulder! --" he was cut short by Scully's ringing slap.

"How dare you? How dare you?" She was almost in tears. 

"Go back to your tent, Dana, I'll be there in a few minutes. I have to secure Agent Giordini."

White led Giordini back to his tent. He said, "Stay there or you'll be really sorry!" and ran to the supplies tent. He came back and first attached a waist chain round Giordini's waist. Then he attached a short length of chain from the handcuffs to the waist chain. Finally, he shackled Giordini's legs. He left him on the bed. "It's gonna be awful damn hard for you to get into any more trouble, but in case you do, I'll cuff you to the bed. Now, you should be able to shuffle to the bathroom by yourself. If you shuffle anywhere else and I find out about it, there'll be hell to pay. Now at night I'll come by and shackle you to the bed so you don't sneak off, so you better go to the bathroom before that!"

Giordini sniffled. "Just what am I being charged with here?"

White said, "I told you when I Mirandized you. You are being charged with aggravated sexual assault, that is, rape; mayhem, assault with a deadly weapon, aggravated assault, kidnapping and attempted murder."

"Jesus," said Giordini, and appeared to deflate a little.

"Now remember what I told you!" White said.

******************************************************************************

Halfway down the long, bumpy road, they had a "bathroom" stop and chewed hungrily on apples and Swiss cheese sandwiches they'd bought at a little country store near the crossroads.

"By my estimations, we're almost there," announced Langly.

"Oh yeah? You must not look at the odometer," said Frohike, munching an apple.

"Yada, yada. Well, we have 15 miles to go." The sucker was in his pocket, carefully wrapped in wax paper.

"15 miles more of this road? Jesus Christ!"

Byers swallowed a bite of sandwich. "We've come this far, we can make it the rest of the way," he said with dignity.

"Look! Look! There!" said Frohike, waving excitedly, pointing.

All three saw a coyote, about fifty yards out, sunning himself on a large red rock.

"Wow!"

"Yeah! Hey, doesn't the coyote mean something to the Indians?"

Byers cleared his throat. "Coyote is the trickster to the Navajos. He is said to bring good luck."

They finished their lunches, gulping down the last bites, gazing at the coyote the whole while. As they turned toward the van, the coyote raised his head up in the wolf-howl pose and began to yip-yip-yip.

Byers' eyes grew very large. "They never do that except at night! Wonder what it means!"

They shook their heads and got inside.

***************************************************************************

Though they were dog-tired, Krycek urged the horses to greater extremities of speed.

"Krycek," Mulder called.

"What?"

"You've got to let the horses rest! It's killin' em!"

"Shit oh God!" muttered Krycek, but called a halt. They dismounted.

While the horses were blowing, they had a talk. "Alex," said Mulder hesitantly. He sensed that Krycek was in a "mood," and he didn't intend to bug him necessarily.

"Yeah, Mulder." He looked at Mulder. You're not bugging me, came the thought.

Mulder was shocked. Oh yeah -- the Talisman in its little pouch, still managing to glow through it. He could read minds.

And others can read your mind, came the thought.

"Alex," he said recklessly, "I want to just throw this Talisman thing away, and I want us to run away to maybe Tahiti. That's what I want."

"And I, too, " Krycek said somberly. "But you are the Bearer and you are charged with taking it back, as I am charged to accompany you."

"Charged? By whom? You're getting very, very mystical on me, Alex."

Krycek looked at him, his beryl eyes flashing fire. "By God, or whomever. Someone like that. And you know it, too, Mulder."

Mulder looked down. Take heart, came the thought. You are not alone in this, Mulder.

He looked up into dark-lashed eyes. Suddenly he leaned over and kissed Krycek. "Alex," he murmured. "Oh, God, how I love you, Alex Krycek."

I love you too.

"Sit down, Alex," he said conversationally. "I'm gonna suck your cock."

Alex sat, smiling, "How you gonna do that, right through my jeans?"

"Here, I'll show you." He unsnapped Krycek, unzipped him and pulled his jeans and his shorts around his hips. "See? That was easy!" He crouched, leaned forward and took Krycek's hard (and sizeable) cock in his mouth. At the same time he reached a hand around and poked a finger in Krycek's ass, dry. Krycek gasped.

"See? Now I've got you from both sides!" Mulder chuckled. He set to work sucking Alex's cock, all the while finger-fucking him. Alex looked at him with the biggest green eyes in Creation and came, screaming and spurting come down Mulder's throat.

Mulder withdrew his finger and sat up. "Well," he said, running a hand through his hair.

Krycek pulled up his jeans, approached Mulder and kissed him, tasting himself a complex bitter-sweet-salty taste that he rather liked. "Let me suck you off, Mulder, " he murmured into Mulder's ear.

"Think we have time?" 

"Oh yes, lisitsa," he said. "Just stand. Pull down your pants."

Krycek knelt on the rocky trail and took Mulder's huge, throbbing cock in his mouth, first teasing the tip and the rest of the head, then taking him in a little at a time till his throat was massaging the tip. "Ah.. You're really good at that!" Mulder gasped.

Krycek chuckled and began to suck in earnest. He grabbed Mulder's ass and worked a finger in, as Mulder had done to him. Mulder moaned. Finger-fucking him rhythmically, he sucked his cock and licked his balls till Mulder was ready to scream. Then he did scream, and his yells reverberated around the canyon walls.

When he was done, he dressed quickly and they mounted their horses, who had stopped blowing and had in fact begun to show an interest in the scant grass along the trail.

"We're almost down to the Sandy River Valley floor. It's 8:00, and we've made good time. We ought to be at the camp within a reasonable time." called Krycek.

"OK!" called Mulder. He wondered what a "reasonable time" was. Krycek's mind, he had come to learn, worked in mysterious ways.

They picked their way down the mountainside and trotted onto the valley floor. Krycek urged his stallion into a gallop, and Mulder's horse had to go almost uncomfortably fast to keep up with him. Horse of the Year? I guess so! He thought. At a dead run, Guardian was probably one of the fastest horses in the world.

When they came to the Sandy River, they dismounted and led the horses across. It was dark, the last shreds of sunset fading in the west, and it was hard going over the slippery rocks that they couldn't see. When they got to the other side, they and the horses were shivering, and the cool desert night was upon them.

"We've got to keep going! That'll get the circulation going again!" Said Krycek encouragingly. He and Mulder swung into their saddles and urged their horses into a canter, then a gallop. Soon they'd reached the other side of the valley. "Up in the redrocks again!" called Krycek, though they could not see them.

"Hey Krycek," Mulder called.

"Yeah?"

"I'm really cold and wet and my wet clothes aren't drying and I can't stop shivering." he said.

Krycek called a halt. He jumped out of the saddle agilely. "Here, maybe Runningwater packed spares," he said, rummaging around in the saddle bags. "Here, a pair of jeans, shirt, sweater. They should fit you Mulder," he said carelessly, and tossed them to Mulder, who sat looking at them. "But they're yours," he said slowly. "Now what will you do?"

Krycek shrugged. "I'll be fine," he said.

"Now let me help you out of those clothes." Touching Mulder's skin, he noticed that it really was cold. "Get down out of the saddle, Mulder, and take your clothes off and get into this bedroll I'm going to roll out for you. NOW." Mulder did as he was told. He lay in the bedroll, trembling. Krycek shucked off his clothes and got into the sleeping bag with Mulder, rubbing his cold skin and holding him tight.

"I won't get this far and lose you and have it all come to ruin," he said, and hugged Mulder. He noticed that Mulder, even in his hypothermic condition, had an erection, and Krycek began to stroke it. Maybe this'll get his circulation going, he thought.

Maybe it will, came the thought, and Mulder sat up. "No, lay back down, lisa." Krycek stroked his fine erection, jacking him off nice and easy till he spurted warm come all over his hand. "That should help you, lisa," he said, and got out of the sleeping bag.

"Where are you going?" Mulder asked fretfully.

"Just to build a fire, lisitsa. Gonna warm something up for you." He looked through the saddlebags, carefully avoiding one that had something large and bulky in it. "Let's see, coffee, tea, powdered milk, ugh, cider mix -- that looks good! Um, beans, chili, more beans, ravioli, soup-- minestrone, hmm, OK!"

Krycek took an envelope and a can out of the saddlebag, two pans out of another. "Got to build a fire," he muttered.

With all the kindling that littered the valley floor, soon he had a nice little fire going. He carefully placed both pans over it and prepared the food. He brought a cup of cider and another one of minestrone soup to Mulder, who accepted them gratefully. "There's more, lisa," he told Mulder. Mulder drank the cider and ate the soup quickly, and was easily persuaded to have more. Soon he'd eaten it all and Krycek climbed in the bag again to check him out.

"You'll do. You're warm enough. Now get dressed in the dry clothes and wear the sweater, for sure!" Mulder did as he was told while Krycek kicked the fire out, using the ashes and sandy soil to scrub the pans. He rolled up the bag and packed everything up.

They continued on in the dark with only the light of a full moon to see by -- "It's enough!" said Krycek -- first racing across the valley floor, then trotting up the side of the massive rock formation popularly known as "Mt. Boulder."

"Krycek." Mulder called.

"Yeah?"

"Why all the damn-fire hurry, and why all of a sudden?"

"Lisitsa," floated back to him in the cold desert air. "I just got this feeling that you were in great danger. Very gut kind of feeling, you know? And that every hour, every minute we spent at my house was putting you in greater danger."

"Oh," said Mulder, not entirely convinced.

"The bearer of the..Talisman," said Krycek hesitatingly, "can be sought and hounded to the ends of the Earth."

"By the Consortium? That smoking bastard?"

"By them, by him, yes, but by...others. I'd rather not go into it now."

Mulder felt that he was no further forward. "Hoo, boy," he said.

They rode on in silence for a while, the only sound the clop of the horses' hooves on the rocky soil, the small sounds of night creatures, the hoot of an owl. The horses crested the ridge and began to descend the other side in great switchbacks.

"Slickrock," was Krycek's comment. It did, indeed, glimmer slightly in the moonlight. Mulder remembered, this was the red mud place.

"Krycek," he said.

"Yep."

"Do you love me? I mean, more than that boy."

Krycek turned around in the saddle, searching for Mulder's face. "I can't believe you said that. Yes, I love you, more than life itself. Why do you think I married you? Why do you think I'm doing all this for you? And the other thing, I never, ever loved that boy. Just his body. And I love yours much, much more. Christ, it's got a mind attached to it! A brilliant mind I love like nothing else on Earth. I mean, I almost shot that houseboy. Is that love?"

He faced forward again.

"OK." said Mulder. "You're right. Thank you. I love you too, beyond all reason. That's why I'm so jealous."

"You don't love Scully more?"

Mulder laughed. "Scully? I love her enough to die for her. I love her like the sister I lost. But Alex, it's not romantic love. It's not sexual love. You do see the difference?"

"Well, of course," Krycek said cautiously. "But she would like it to be romantic love."

"Yeah, well, my TALISMAN is telling me ..." Mulder put three fingers to his forehead, though Krycek couldn't see him. "...that....Scully is now romantically involved with a certain Agent White."

Krycek snorted. "That guy who tried to apprehend me? That super-macho dude? Doesn't seem like her type at all."

"You'd be surprised," said Mulder. "For one thing, Scully needs to get some. For another, she needs someone to love her. I saw the way he looked at her. Like a deer in the headlights. I've seen that look before, and it augurs a relationship. Or at least, nooky," he finished thoughtfully.

He pulled a tiny Maglight out of a shirt pocket and shined it on his watch. "3:00," he announced.

"3:00? That's incredible time! At this rate, we'll be back before they get there."

"Before they get there? Who are 'they'?"

"The...uh...people who are going to be getting there," Krycek finished lamely.

"Out with it, Alex. Who are they?"

"Oh..Uh. Look, I had this dream, Mulder."

"Out with it," Mulder sighed.

"Well, I had this dream that those guys you call the Long Gunmen were coming..."

Mulder sat up straight in his saddle and his hands tightened on the reins. Socks paused, awaiting further instruction. "Oh..." he loosened the reins and clucked the horse forward.

"The Lone Gunmen?" he asked, incredulously.

"Yeah, and for some reason I was afraid of them."

"You? Afraid of the Gunmen?" Mulder laughed.

"For some reason I had a REASON to be afraid of them," Krycek persisted.

"And?"

"And so, and so...I would just like to get there before they do and take off."

"Take off? But Alex you should stay and be my guest."

Krycek snorted. "Your guest, eh? White's prisoner is more like it."

Mulder fell silent. Then, "so you're basically just gonna deliver me, like a UPS package, and ring the doorbell and drive away?"

"Basically. That's the game plan."

"When you go back? What about the Consortium? Will they be there? What will they do?"

"They will be there, eventually, and they will beat me or torture me to discover the location of the Talisman. By that time, though, you will already have received your instructions and placed the Talisman in the right place, wherever that is. They won't be able to get it then."

"But they will have you, Alex."

Krycek sighed. "Yes, they will."

"Alex."

"Yes?"

"Can't you, won't you come back with me? They won't hurt you."

"Yeah, except that White will arrest me and Scully will kill me," he said, bitterly.

"I could talk to them, try to make them see things your way," he said.

"Oh yeah. And you'll be real convincing!" Krycek said. "Look! Here's our little stream, remember? Where we smeared red mud all over ourselves?"

They stopped the horses and let them drink a little. "Remember! Only a few swallows," Krycek warned. "This water comes from a spring and it is very cold."

They watered the horses and had a few bites of the blueberry muffins that Krycek had brought with him. "From Master Chef Robert Duples!" he exclaimed.

"Oh." said Mulder, chewing. "Thought his name was Poirot. But I got the nationality right."

Krycek grinned. "No, you didn't. Duples is French. Poirot, if I remember correctly, was Belgian."

Mulder shrugged. "You got one on me, then, Alex. One of many," he finished.

They pulled the horses' heads up and urged them on.

"3:30." called back Krycek. "We will be there by 10 or 11:00."

"Oh, wow," remarked Mulder. Back to Scully.

"What?" Krycek asked. Mulder had forgotten how transparent his thoughts were. "Uh, I mean, back to where Scully is," he said.

"Yeah huh." said Krycek, sullenly.

The one you love like a sister, the thought came.

"Huh? Yeah," he answered aloud.

They rode on, and downward.

When they reached the bottom of the hill, Alex held up his hand, and Mulder paused. "What is it?"

"Ssh!" said Alex and waved his hand. The horses snorted.

This time both men heard it: a low, menacing growl.

"Mountain lion!" said Krycek, and there was fear in his voice.

He urged his stallion onward at a canter. "Hey!" Called Mulder, scrambling to keep up, "Wait!" As Guardian ran forward, Mulder saw something long and light-colored burst from the trees. "Alex, Alex!" screamed Mulder hysterically. "Alex! It's coming! It's coming!"

The stallion whirled around to meet the lion, rearing and pawing and neighing fiercely. The lion screamed and went for the stallion. One of his hooves connected with the lion, which fell back, growling and snarling, collecting itself for another spring. Mulder's gun was in his hands. "No! No!" he screamed, and fired three times. The mountain lion snarled but did not move, and the horse whirled again and kicked, hard. The lion grunted.

Mulder came riding up quickly to Krycek, who was sitting in his saddle shaking and staring down at the dying mountain lion. "Finish it off, Mulder, I can't do it," he said, trembling.

Mulder pointed his Sig and fired, and the lion shuddered and lay still. "There's one for your trophy wall, Alex," he commented. "I guess the fur was cut up too badly... you could still use the head."

Krycek looked at him, amazed at how cool he was. "It's your trophy, Mulder. Yours and Guardian's," and he stroked the stallion's sweaty neck.

"You have really amazing horses, Krycek," commented Mulder, as he holstered his pistol.

They rode on through the wee small hours of the morning. When they got to the desert flats, Krycek called, "Open 'er up!" and the horses went surging forward as though they were well rested, eating up the miles.

****************************************************************************

The van stopped.

"Are we here yet?" called Langly, cherry sucker in mouth. He'd thrown out the lime one he'd put in his pocket.

"Depends on what you think 'here' is," remarked Frohike, cutting the engine.

Byers was asleep in the back couch. He'd had time to watch one Star Trek episode on his TV, when he fell asleep.

"It's a crossroads again," said Frohike. "Map,"

Langly passed him up the rather rumpled Utah map. "C'mon, I'm going outside to look at this," Frohike said. Langly followed, swinging the side door open with a bang.

"Hey, try not to wake up Byers, OK?" Frohike said reprovingly. "He's probably gotten less sleep than any of us."

"OK," said Langly, popping out the sucker and looking around.

"More redrock country," he commented. "God, it's beautiful!" he said, looking at the painted desert, the colorful bluffs.

"Yeah, it is," Frohike said. "I could retire here."

Langly looked at him and snorted. "As if," he said.

"As if what?"

"As if you've got something to retire FROM," Langly said, and the sucker went back in.

"Now, seriously, Langly, I need help with this map,"

"OK." They bent over the map. 

Finally Frohike said, "That road isn't even on the map. I was afraid of something like this."

"Aren't you getting any of your intuition to help you?"

"No, " said Frohike miserably. "It comes in waves. I haven't gotten any lately."

Langly rocked back on the heels of his Converse tennis shoes, tapping his lower lip with the sucker. "Um," he said. "I think we go right. That's approximately west, and they are, according to my calculations, in the far Southwestern corner of the state."

"Yeah, well, that's where we are too," Frohike said doubtfully. "But we'll go with your hunch, Langly."

They climbed back in the car and continued west. This road was if possible even more wretched than the one they had just left: it was gravel. Gravel crunched under the wheels, and gravel spurted up under the hood, under the chassis and the wheel wells, so that they had to shout to be heard.

Amid all the noise, Byers awoke. "Where are we?" he asked. "Are we there yet?"

The other two laughed. "You're doing a Frohike, there, Byers!" Langly said. 

Frohike turned partway around in his seat. "We're not there yet, but we're within five to ten miles, we think," he said.

"Oh. Why on Earth are we on this terrible road?" asked Byers.

The sucker popped out. "Because there is no other, man," Langly said. "This is it."

******************************************************************************

At 4:00 in the morning, Scully awoke suddenly, heart pounding, and sat up in bed. "Mulder!" she said,"Mulder's in trouble!" She donned her bathrobe and ran to White's tent.

"David! David! " She called as softly as she could.

"M-mmph?" came the muffled reply.

"It's me, Dana Scully," she said.

He came to the door wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. "Dana," he said, "what're you doing up at this hour, hmm?" She stood in the light of a streetlamp, and his keen eyes took in her disheveled hair, and her bathrobe clutched tightly around her. Must have gotten up in a big hurry, he thought.

He opened his door. "Come in, come in," he said with a sweeping bow. 

"Uh, I. I had this dream about Mulder. That he was in mortal danger." He turned away so that she could not see his face, then turned back when he'd straightened it out. Damn that Mulder anyway, he thought, but he said, "Tell me about it."

"I dreamed -- I dreamed there was this monster after Mulder and he ...he shot it!"

"Well now, he took care of it, didn't he?" he said, holding her, brushing his lips on her hair. He was getting an erection. Down boy, he thought. Now is not the time.

"Yes, but..but I also dreamed he was carrying something of great value and...danger...David, do you think he is," and she turned her pretty, pretty face to his.

He took that face in his hands. He thought immediately of the Talisman, but he whispered, "Don't worry, Dana. Even if he is, everything will turn out all right."

He kissed her lightly on the lips. She felt him bumping against her. "Uh -- do you want to make love, Agent White?"

"That would be more than wonderful, Dana, but it isn't necessary. Something tells me you just want to be held."

"Oh, I do," she said fervently, clinging to his back, his waist.

"OK," he said. They got into his cot and "spooned." 

"That's some hard-on you've got, Mister," she commented sleepily.

"All for you, my love," he breathed into her soft red hair.

"Today," she said slowly.

"What happens today?" he asked.

"Mulder comes back. He comes back with that Krycek. Be prepared."

"What," he said, startled. "How do you know this?"

"I just know. And..." Her voice drifted off. "We make love," she mumbled.

"You and MULDER!" he said, fully awake.

She smiled slightly. "No, silly, you and I. Till the Earth moves."

He smiled and buried his face in the nape of her neck, inhaling her fragrance, and clasped his muscular arms around her slim waist. He had found her and he had won her, and he was never going to let her go.

They drifted off to sleep.

They were awakened by Jan Harris' ponytailed head poking in the door and smiling. "Hey sleepyheads! Time to wake up!"

They stirred. "Uh, what time is it?"

"It's six o'clock. There are people here to see you," she said. "Well, actually they're here to see Mulder, but --"

White bolted out of bed, pulling on jeans and a shirt. "Who are they?" He asked, hopping on one foot as he pulled the pants leg up.

"They call themselves the Lone Gunmen," she said.

"Oh. Shit." he said, buttoning his shirt buttons wrong. "Bye, Dana," he said, kissing her on the cheek, "till later, baby." And he was out the door running toward the road.

Scully propped herself up on one elbow. "Boy!" she said. Jan Harris stood in the doorway and winked. "You've got yourself a good one, Dana. One of the best."

"Uh-huh," said Scully, beginning to wake up. "Did you say the Lone Gunmen?"

She was back to her tent as fast as she could go, nearly stumbling over the trussed-up form of Giordini on his way to the bathrooms. He fixed her with a look of hate. "Whore," he said, and spat. She ignored him, went to her tent, dressed in any old thing -- a pair of shorts, a T-shirt --and went running down to the road.

There was Byers' older rust-colored van and the three themselves. They had guns trained on them and they were trying not to look hurt.

"Withdraw your weapons!" White commanded, running up. At the same moment Scully arrived on the scene. She burst upon them, crying "Langly! Byers! Frohike!" and flinging herself into Frohike's surprised but delighted arms. Then she hugged Byers and last of all geeky Langly, who stood idiotically with a sucker in his mouth.

"You guys!" she scolded. "Why'd you do it?"

They looked at each other. "We," began Byers, "for one thing, "came to find you. And for another, to find Mulder. He isn't here?" He asked worriedly, looking around.

Scully shook her head. "He hasn't showed up yet -- that is, if he ever does."

The sucker popped out. "Oh, he will. Take our word for it."

Scully smiled. She loved these three nerdy guys!

White stepped forward and held out his hand, "I'm Agent White, commandant of this camp."

They shook hands all around. "White said "I can get you guys a tent with cots, and there are showers and restrooms. You must be very tired. How far have you come?"

"From near D.C. 3200 miles," Frohike said.

"Yeah, that's not including all those times we got lost," offered Langly.

Frohike and Byers glared at him. "As I recall, you were at fault on the most egregious of those errors," said Byers.

"Children," said Scully, piping up, "Your tents should be ready soon. Go park your van on this side of the road and get your stuff."

They did as she suggested and followed White to the tents. Langly and Frohike got to share one, and Byers had his own. There was some grumbling about this, but they soon settled down and went fast asleep. Scully went to check in on them a couple of hours down the line, to offer them a hot meal, but they were still asleep. Frohike was snoring away. She smiled at him. Sleep tight little Froggy, she thought.

Around 11:00, she finished with her Kirlian machine duties and went to find White. He was standing on the edge of camp, shading his eyes against the hot desert sun, gazing into the distance.

"David," she said hesitantly.

He looked at her and smiled. "Dana, what's up?"

She shook her head. "Really, nothing."

He resumed his looking. "What are you looking for?"

He looked at her alertly. "Nothing," he said.

She smirked. "OK"

"Those guys, the Lone Gunmen?"

"Yes?"

"They're the ones who'd been analyzing our data, then they bugged out on us," he said. "Wonder just why."

"I don't know. David, what is that?" she asked suddenly, touching his arm. He stiffened. He'd seen it too. He brought his binoculars to his face and trained them on what looked like a rolling cloud of dust... Then he could distinguish figures in the dust, men on horseback. There looked to be two, galloping hard.

He whistled and shook his head. "My God," he said softly.

"What is it? What is it?" He handed his binoculars wordlessly to Scully, who took them and quickly scanned the horizon and found them.

"God, David, it's them! It's Mulder and Krycek!" She yelled, jumping up and down on her feet. "Oh my God, oh my God!"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "This time I'll get the bastard!" he muttered, and ran with long loping strides back to his tent. Scully didn't know what to do, whether to be angry or happy, which end was up. "Mulder," she murmured, caressing the name.

When White had gotten the guns out of his tent, he called a general alarm, running from tent to tent and radioing the agents at the mine, who came running down the ridge. "Ring the camp!" he said, "and you, Johansen, Ebert, Hollady, down in that hollow there!"

This time he must not fail. He must capture Krycek.

He thought briefly about calling Skinner, who could call in the Army copters. No-- No -- It was pointless. Skinner was on vacation, and that Kersh wouldn't authorize a damned thing.

White stood by Scully and watched the horsemen draw closer and closer. They came to a skidding stop about two blocks away.

"OK, guys, after 'em," White called to the men in the hollow. They ran in the direction of the horsemen, White with them, and Scully. One had dismounted -- looked like Mulder -- and it looked like the man on the tall bay horse leaned down and did something to Mulder, maybe kissed him.

"Shoot the horses if you have to but don't hurt Mulder!" White yelled, running.

Now they were in range, and they started to shoot. The bay horse reared, pawing the air and neighing shrilly, just as a bullet passed under its belly.

The rider rode the horse directly at them. Now they saw that Krycek held an Uzi in the crook of his arm. He was controlling the stallion by leg signals alone. Krycek opened fire, spraying bullets in the dirt at their feet. In the fire that ensued he was hit, taking a bullet in his left shoulder. He reeled back and wheeled the horse round, clapping his heels into its sides. In a moment he was away, riding faster than the wind across the desert hardpan.

Agent Johansen breathlessly ran up to White. "Should we pursue him, sir?" White looked at him, then he looked at the unmounted and slowly walking Mulder. "I think I'll get Mulder's opinion." he said.

He walked toward Mulder, but Scully outstripped him. "Mulder!" She cried. "Oh, Mulder! Are you all right?"

She hugged him, loving him. "Oh, Mulder."

White looked at him gravely. "Mulder, are you OK?"

Mulder looked at him. "Yeah. I'm OK. But you shot Alex," he said accusingly. Socks walked behind him without a lead.

"Looks like we've got another horse," said White thoughtfully. "Wonder what we'll feed it."

"Oh...you can feed it oatmeal," Mulder offered absently.

"Seems to be well-trained, following you like a dog," Scully observed.

"No, just a highly intelligent animal," Mulder said. Then, "You shot Alex. And no, don't pursue him," his blue-green gaze boring into White's ice-blue one. "I won't forget that."

Mulder brushed past White. "Hey, Scully," he muttered, then walked towards camp. Scully caught the horse's reins. She'd never seen such a pretty horse. He was a bright red-gold with golden mane and tail, and high white stockings and blaze. He had a delicate head and high tail carriage. Must be an Arab, she thought. She led him toward where the other horse, Jeannette, was tethered.

Daniel West was feeding the mare raw oatmeal. He looked up and smiled as Scully approached. "Here's another one for ya! You must be feeling better."

He smiled. She smiled back, then ran off to get Mulder. "Mulder!" She called, "Mulder!"

"Here, Scully, in my tent." He poked his head out and smiled. "Come on in!"

She went in and sat on his bunk, and caught her up on his amazing adventures. He showed her the pouch with the Talisman in it, and she was awed. "So you are indeed The One, Mulder? This is incredible!" He nodded.

He skipped over the parts which involved intimacy with Krycek. He was very worried about his lover. It didn't seem as though Krycek had received a fatal would, but he was still hurt and in pain somewhere out in the wild. Mulder hung his head.

"Mulder, what's the matter," she asked. Looking into his blue-green eyes.

He sighed. "I've just lost my heart and soul -- it's been ripped from me."

She patted his knee. "I know. Try not to think about it if you can."

Mulder looked down. "Tell Agent White to pursue Alex after all," he said slowly. "I want him back, I want him here."

She was startled. "You know, Mulder, if they were to recover Krycek, they'd have to arrest him and he'd probably go to jail. For a long time, Mulder."

"Oh. Yeah. Christ." he ran a hand through his golden-brown hair. "Well, then I hope they don't pursue him," he spread his hands helplessly. "I don't know what to do. I think I will never see him again."

"Mulder, you've got your family and your friends, and I will always be there for you," Scully said fervently. She kissed him on the forehead. "Time to get some grub, I think. Has he been feeding you well?" she asked sharply, noting his thin, drawn look.

"Oh of course. Gourmet food at every meal," he said, his eyes downcast.

"C'mon Mulder. Let's rustle up some grub -- soup, sandwich or something like that. Oh, Mulder," she said, "The Lone Gunmen showed up here a few hours ago, looking for you."

"Where are they?" he asked.

"You know, I haven't seen 'em lately," she said. "We'll go by their tents." They looked and the tents were empty. There was a shout behind them and Langly, Byers and Frohike were walking slowly down the street dragging a short man with a balding head of black hair. His wrists were cuffed. Scully ran down to them. "I'll take him!" she cried. "Where did you find him? Where are his waist chain and shackles?"

Frohike said, patiently, "We found him outside of the perimeter of the camp. He was running toward the Eastern hills. We expect to find his chain and shackles inside the tent. We think he got a hold of a paper clip and unchained himself."

"Now, get along, shorty," he said to Giordini, giving him a little push for emphasis.

"I'll get White," said Scully. "C'mon Mulder!"

Giordini was duly re-apprehended and placed in his bunk, this time cuffed to the bed.

Scully and Mulder went to Scully's tent. Mulder leaned back against the wall. "You know, I'm gonna kill White. You know that."

Scully looked up, startled. "Oh no, I don't think so."

"I think so. May I please use your gun, Scully?"

She touched it. "No, you may not! Now stay there!" She ducked out to go to the medical supplies tent for a shot of Valium or something. On the way, she passed White. "Oh, David, we've got a situation here with Mulder." She explained things and he nodded. "Yes, by all means give him a sedative!" he said

"Give whom a sedative?" Mulder asked quietly behind them. They started.

"Um, no one," she said, shakily.

Mulder looked long at White. "You bastard," he said quietly. "Number one, you can't give me a sedative, number two, you, Scully, are not my friend and number three, White, I'll see you in hell."

He left, and Scully took off after him. "Mulder. Mulder!" she called, but he completely ignored her, went to his tent and lay down.

"Mulder!" she said, sticking her head in his tent.

"No, it's not something we can discuss," he said. "Get out!"

Scully left, brokenhearted. She practically bumped into White because she was looking at the ground. "Dana," he said, raising her face with a hand. "He's in shock right now. Moreover, he's been brainwashed by that rat, Krycek, whom I should have apprehended or shot worse than I did. I'm thinking that he may die of shock and blood loss in the wilderness anyway, and that it would be good riddance."

She looked at him miserably. "Is this nightmare ever gonna end?"

"Well, it will when the mission's complete."

"Oh. I may know something about that," she said, carefully.

"Dana! What do you know about it?"

"Um, come into my tent and I'll tell you." Seated on the bed, she told him.

"Oh, my God! He's got the Talisman! And he's the only one who can handle it?"

"Yes, evidently. I tried touching it myself, and there was like a hot force field around it, and I got a shock and a burn which left no mark," she flexed her hand to show him.

He leaned back, deep in thought. "OK," he said, "apparently we've got to trust an unstable man who's been through severe loss recently, and what looks like brainwashing, to do this the right way, because there is no one else who can."

She nodded, "Yes, that's about it."

He said, "You know, under the mine where we've been excavating -- trying to excavate --Jennings says that's where the old Indian's body hid itself all over again. I guess he likes it there. We've been digging and digging but the more we do that, the more the hole is covered over with dirt. Even the dirt that is thrown outside the mine somehow migrates back into the hole. Anyway, to make a long story short, I'll bet that is the site for the Talisman to be placed."

She said, "Well, Mulder talked about 'receiving instruction,' in the form of dreams or visions, that would tell him for sure. I think we have to wait for that to happen first."

"Yes, perhaps. Probably. I don't know," he said in frustration, getting up to pace back and forth. "What if this isn't a good thing?" he asked suddenly. "What if this thing is evil, or will do evil, what then? Again, I am trusting a sick man."

She flinched. "I'm worried about him hurting you, and I'm afraid of what will happen if he does."

"Well if he wants to punch me, I'll let him, but I'll draw the line at serious bodily harm."

She squinched closer to him and put her face on his chest, inhaling him, the manliness of him. "You make good decisions," she said. 

He snorted. "I make terrible decisions."

"Why?" she looked up at him in wonder. He noticed again the perfection of her small slightly aquiline face, the full lips, the big blue eyes, and sighed. "Because I fucked up. I let Mulder go off with Krycek," he said, "and for another thing, I let Krycek get away again."

"David," she said, "First of all, you had to let Mulder go with him or the Talisman would never have been recovered. Second of all, as you said Krycek will likely die of his wounds. If he doesn't, well, you've studied Eastern philosophies. Don't you think he may have something important to do, still? Don't you think it's possible?" He looked at her for a long time, studying her earnest expression, stroking her hair.

"I guess so. Say, Dana, it's time for lunch. Are you up for burgers, fries and all the fixin's?"

She got up. "More red meat," she sighed. "Yeah, sure." She put her small hand in his large one and together they went to lunch.

******************************************************************************

Krycek rode hard and fast until he got to the pinyon pine stand. There he slid off his horse and flopped on the ground, breathing hard and feeling woozy. I must do something about this shoulder, he thought, or it will do something about me. It had bled profusely and the blood had formed a crust over his shoulder and chest.

With the tools Bill Runningwater had left, he first built a fire, placed a small pan filled with water on it, and then put his hunting knife in the pan of water. He let it boil for twenty minutes, took out the knife and removed the slug from his shoulder. He wanted to pass out from the pain, but he resisted it. He took off his shirt, wadded it up and threw it away, then he took a clean cloth and the boiling water and washed out his wound. Then he took some antibiotic salve, smeared it around on the wound. Finally, and wincingly, he put a length of thread through a needle and sewed up the wound.

The pain was pretty bad, but nothing like the agony he'd endured when they'd cut off that arm in Tunguska. This was he: wounded by knife, gun, lash, infection; tortured almost to death; and yet he survived. I am a survivor indeed, he told himself.

He didn't know whether he could survive what awaited him...up there, in the Hidden Valley ranch. He was, though, sure as hell gonna give it a shot.

He kicked out the fire, packed up the implements and mounted Guardian, magnificent, fearless stallion, at one time the fastest Thoroughbred in the world. And he rode into the afternoon.

******************************************************************************

Scully noticed that Mulder ate something for lunch, but he sat off by himself on one of the logs by the fire circle. At one point Jan Harris sat down by him and tried to engage him in conversation, but he shook his head and looked determinedly down at his plate.

Scully's brow furrowed. She hoped this was not a trend. She realized he was sick and didn't take seriously what he'd said about not being Scully's friend anymore. She had to tread very delicately here, though, and was not going to bug him at this point.

After lunch, White left to go check on Giordini. He was still there, trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey and complaining bitterly about having to go to the bathroom. While White took him to the Porta-Potties, Scully ducked round to look in on the Lone Gunmen. Evidently they'd decided to ditch lunch, because they were in their tents doing things with electronic equipment. Frohike had his laptop, Langly, his sucker and Game Gear, and Byers was watching TV. They greeted her effusively, especially Frohike, who kissed her hand and invited her into their "pad." She rolled her eyes. "You guys are too much!"

"Nothing is ever too much for such a beautiful lady as yourself," intoned Frohike, looking up into her eyes. Wow. He was the flatterer, all right.

"What're you guys up to?" She asked curiously, knowing it was something.

Langly took out his sucker. "We need a big favor of your Agent White."

(MY Agent White? Was it that obvious?)

"Yes, and what would that be?" she asked briskly, knowing a blush was about to claim her.

"We need to borrow his radio. We need to charter a chopper," he said importantly. "Our cell phones don't work out here. Out of range of a transmitter."

"Oh, yes? And why would you be needing one?"

"We can't tell you," said Frohike, looking down at his hiking shoes.

"Top secret," agreed Langly, popping the sucker back in.

"Oh, you need to charter a helicopter and you can't tell me why?" she was amused.

"Can't." Said Langly, chewing on the sucker.

"Byers," she called, "What is this about needing a helicopter?"

He called through the thin tent walls, "Well, it is true that we need one, and it is also true that it is a very important mission. We have money for it."

Something struck her. "Where would you be needing this vehicle to go, hmm?"

Silence. Uncomfortable, throat-clearing silence.

"Well, don't all talk at once!" she exclaimed.

Frohike spoke first. "Uh...Isn't that part of the Top-Secret part of it?"

"Oh. Would that be the Top Secret Harrassing Alex Krycek part of it?"

"You realize," she said, sitting down on a cot piled high with nameless clothing items, "that, for one thing, Alex is either dead right now or will die of shock, blood loss or infection? Agent White shot him with a high-caliber weapon."

"Just in case he's not, though," began Frohike.

"Well, let's say just in case he doesn't die. He'll go up to his lair, and the Consortium will come for him. Or maybe, just maybe he can lead a nice peaceful life there. Now I, Dana Scully, have every reason in the world to hate him. I do hate him. And I pity him. He doesn't have much of a life left. Let him be."

They were silent, staring sullenly at their devices.

"Well, OK, I've said most of my piece," she said. "No, you can't use the radio or anything else to charter a copter. You're on your own guys. And guys? I wouldn't do it if I were you. You know how a cornered animal is? That's how he'll be. And," she added, "he's one of the most dangerous men in the world. Now, I know you know all this, just thought I'd remind you."

She left and went to White's tent, but he wasn't there. Shrugging, she went to look in on Daniel West. He'd been moved from the infirmary this morning, and she thought he'd probably make a good recovery. She found him again with the horses. He'd rubbed down Socks till he was as shiny as Jeannette. "That's a mighty pretty horse," she said, indicating Socks. "Arab, right?"

He looked at her and smiled radiantly. "Y-you know, you're the f-first person -- actually you're the only person here -- who's noticed that?" She smiled. "I used to really like horses when I was a kid, did some riding. Arabians are the prettiest, aren't they?"

He was cleaning out Socks' hooves with some kind of pick device. "Well, the opinion's divided on that," he said. "Some say Arab, some Thoroughbred, some Lipizzan, Andalusian, American Saddlebred -- take your pick! But I think Arabs are the most beautiful. And the smartest," he added. Scully's eyebrows raised. "Yes, I can well believe that!"

"And this one," he said eagerly, "is an Olympic-class natural jumper. "And Jeannette is a very fine horse, too, of course," he added. "They don't make 'em any tougher or more sure-footed than these little mustangs," he said, patting her neck.

Scully observed him as he worked and talked. He seemed to have made a remarkable recovery, but if she had anything to do with it, she would prosecute Giordini to the fullest extent of the law. This beautiful boy was sensitive, young, utterly without guile.

"Daniel, " she said, "would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

"Well, uh," he began, "Sure but let me finish picking out Socks' hooves. Meet me at my tent in oh, five-six minutes." "OK," she said, and smiled.

She killed five minutes in her tent listening to the radio, picked up a microcassette recorder then went to his tent. He invited her in. It was clean and neat as a pin.

Scully cleared her throat. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about Alex Krycek, and I'll be recording this conversation."

He winced, but said, "sure, go ahead."

"I didn't get a chance to ask you these questions before, or you were too sick. First of all, what waa the nature of your relationship to Krycek?"

He sighed and looked at the floor. "I was his employee, a houseboy. I was also his lover for about a year."

"Yes, I understand. Did he hurt you in any way?"

"No. He was very bossy and pushed his weight around, that sort of thing. But he never hurt me."

"What happened when Mulder got there?"

"Well, it was obvious they were lovers. He petted and pampered Mulder and just... sort of threw me away, I guess."

"What do you mean by 'threw me away'?"

"Well, we weren't lovers anymore. Weren't close. He ignored me, just shouted orders at me."

Her heart was heavy for him. "And then? I understand that you did something to provoke him?"

"I-I cut the c-cinch on his saddle."

"You were intending to kill him?"

"Oh no, I was intending to scare him. But he-he decided I should d-die. He took me out f-front and made me kneel d-down and took out h-his gun and was gonna shoot me."

"And then what happened?"

"Agent Mulder came to my r-rescue. He talked to Alex, I mean Krycek, and persuaded him to s-spare my l-life."

"OK." Said Scully, and stood up.

"That's all?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, that's all you'll ever be asked again."

Scully stepped out into the blinding desert sunlight. "No charges to be filed against Daniel West," she spoke tersely into the tape recorder. "New charge, attempted murder, to be filed against Alex Krycek."

Not that it mattered. Not that it mattered at all. Krycek probably didn't have much of a life left.

The dinner bell rang, and she went over to the dining area.

******************************************************************************

Krycek rode through the pine forest without stopping. Although he looked hither and yon around the trail on the place where he and Mulder had encountered the mountain lion, he could find no sign of the animal, and this gave him a bad feeling. There was no reason that it would not be there. There were no habitations for miles and miles around, no predators large enough to drag it away.

Krycek loped up the trail at a good clip. If there was ...Something...out there, he sure as hell didn't want to encounter it. Entering the slickrock, he thought he saw a man in front of him on the trail, and slid to a stop. It looked like Mulder!

"Mulder! Mulder!" he called, but the vision dissipated into mist and wafted away. Almost sobbing, Krycek rode on. Again this happened, and again Krycek came to a sudden stop, "What the fuck is going on?" he said savagely.

"I don't like this, whoever you are!" he shouted, but his words were tossed mockingly back to him as they echoed around the slickrock walls.

Krycek knew he was probably headed for a nervous breakdown, and fast. He must get to the ranch, and help, as quickly as he could. But he couldn't ask for more speed than a slow canter on this part of the trail, or he and the stallion would fall to their ruin.

Once more, a few miles up in the early evening, Krycek was again visited by the apparition. "Mulder!" He begged. "I can't take this anymore, Mulder." When he rode Guardian through it, the vision again cleared.

Mulder, Mulder. He thought. What am I going to do? I cannot live without you. Why am I bothering doing this? My work is done. I might as well die. I would welcome, yes, welcome death. Krycek grasped the saddle horn and was gripped by racking, tearing sobs that shook him from head to toe. Guardian hesitated and he flicked an ear back towards his master. Krycek urged him on with his legs. "Go, pretty boy," he whispered. "You go."

By nightfall they had begun to make their descent down the other side of the wall of slickrock.

Krycek braved a trot; it wasn't wise, but he was feeling unusually reckless. Guardian tossed his head and settled into a ground-eating trot. Krycek sat the trot gracefully. It was monotonous but not uncomfortable

******************************************************************************

Mulder kept mostly to himself that day, having little to eat at lunch where Jan Harris insisted on trying to talk to him, and not even showing up for dinner. He lay in his cot, hoping for sleep. Damned if he'd ask Scully for drugs. He'd just tough it out.

Around 6:00, sleep finally claimed him. When Scully looked in on him after dinner, he was sleeping deeply. With great tenderness, she brushed back a stray bang. He needed a haircut, poor thing, and a hell of a lot more than that. She tiptoed out and he never knew she'd been in the room.

In his dream, Krycek came to him, smiling fiercely and showing Mulder his hands -- yes, he had two hands in the dream -- they were bleeding, as if from holes. He looked down at Krycek's bare feet and they, too were bleeding. "No! No!" said Mulder, and fell down at Krycek's feet. "You are the one, oh my love, you are the one," said Krycek. "I bequeath these to you," he said, touching the bleeding hands to Mulder's, the bloody feet to Mulders. With horror, Mulder noticed that his hands and feet were now wounded too.

Then he saw Krycek on a wooden table. His feet were together and his arms, stretched out. He looked at Mulder with tenderness. "They will cut out my heart, lisitsa," he said softly. 

Then Mulder was standing on a high mesa. The wind blew his hair back, and he looked around him. Some Navajos were dancing on the mesa, and he was drawn into the dance. He was surprised that he knew the steps. He floated around in dream-motion. He noticed one old Indian -- the fellow of his vision, place a hand on his chest. Suddenly he noticed that a coyote had run into the circle, and the Indians became quiet. It raised a paw, and a bright beam leaped from the coyote to Mulder's forehead.

Mulder jerked awake in a myoclonic seizure. "Jesus," he remarked to no one in particular. That was a hell of a dream. Suddenly it came to him: the Talisman! He rummaged around under his cot. Yes, it was still in its little pouch.

But not for long. He knew now what he had to do with it. He looked out his window. It was dark. Well, he had to do this now. Now or never.

"For God, for my sister, my father, Scully, Krycek, my mother, everyone I have ever loved." he said, clutching the pouch. He fished a flashlight out of his backpack. He snuck a peek outside. Everyone was at the campfire. Good! He sprinted the distance to the mine and entered it cautiously. Well, it didn't look like much. Just a big pile of loose dirt instead of a big pile of impacted dirt. Trembling, he shined the flashlight on it and placed the Talisman on the approximate location of the Indian's grave. He watched as the Talisman sank into the dirt and was covered up. Well, that was that. He -- Suddenly the ground started to tremble. There were flashes of lightning where there hadn't been clouds, and rain started. Then before him rose the Navajo. He grew until he was 20 feet tall. Mulder fell on his knees.

Beneath him, the camp had sprung into life. Fine, thought Mulder, bring your guns, bring your video cameras. Whatever. He was dimly aware of the Kirlian machine humming and clicking into life.

The Indian looked down at him. "Rise up, oh blessed one." he said in Navajo, Mulder supposed, but he was hearing it in his head as English. Mulder stood, shaking hard.

"Thou art indeed blessed. Thou art a witness to the end of the Anasazi, the Ancient Enemies." The Indian gestured, and something like electricity crackled from his hands. "I shall tear them from the sky. I shall send them into another dimension where they will hurt no one."

Mulder, trembling, wondered, could he mean the aliens?

"Yes, the aliens." came the voice. "Witness my power. Yet this is a fraction of what I can do." A great storm arose, winds tearing some of the tents off their moorings and sending them spinning down the hardpan like tumbleweeds. The winds subsided as suddenly as they had begun.

"It is done," said the Indian presently. "The Ancient Enemies, whom you call the aliens, are gone." Then he was shrunk to normal size. 

"You will endure great tribulations, Blessed One. Know that I and the Great Spirit will always be with you."

"What - what shall I call you?" stammered Mulder. 

"Call me Coyote's friend, the spirit of the desert," he said. There was a flash of intensely bright light, and the Indian was gone. The clouds cleared up.

Mulder walked back to camp trembling and thinking very hard.

Those at the camp hadn't seen the Indian, just the atmospheric effects. Jan Harris regarded him oddly when he told her. "You ought to see Dana or Dr. Miller you know, just to let them check you out."

Mulder was angry. "I'm perfectly fine! I saw what I saw! I'm the Blessed One, and I have to endure great tribulations!"

She looked at him. "Look," she said, "I know you've been through a lot. Sometimes people can even hallucinate from PTSD. You know that."

"I. Am. Not. Hallucinating. Okay?"

She smiled at him. "I'll just get Dana," she said.

"Christ," Mulder said, went to his tent and sat down on his bunk.

Scully poked her head in the door. "Mulder? Can I come in?"

"Yeah, why the fuck not?" he asked desultorily.

"Let me just take your temp. Sometimes meningitis causes symptoms like this."

"MMMgggpphhet," he said around the thermometer.

She took it out. "It's normal. That's good. Now what were you saying?"

He looked at her. "I was saying, I don't have any fucking symptoms! I had a religious experience and all the aliens went away. And I'm the blessed one."

She pursed her lips. "Oh...OK, Mulder, come with me to the infirmary."

"Why? I'm not infirm!"

"Just come with me...that's right." he followed her out the door and there was that fucking Agent White, the shooter of Krycek and the shtupper of his ex-best friend. And that Agent Johansen, one of the other fucking shooters. These two should be doing time, not walking around lording it over everyone.

"What the fuck's this about?" he asked angrily.

White grasped one of Mulder's arms and Johansen, a big strapping Norwegian, the other. "Hey!" shouted Mulder. "Hey!"

They escorted him to the infirmary and indicated that he lie on the bed. When he did not, White and Johansen picked him up bodily and lay him there. "Hey! What the fuck! I really saw that Indian!" They were fastening straps around his arms and legs. "And he really did that magic! He made the aliens go away! He did! I was there! I saw it!"

Scully was preparing an injection of Haldol, an antipsychotic, and one of Cogentin, which decreased the probability that the Haldol would cause stiffness.

"Hey! What the fuck! You will not shoot me full of drugs! I do not give my permission! Keep that away from me! Scully, you bitch (she winced)! Don't you dare do that! A curse," he said, "A curse on both your houses!"

"You, White! You've been fucking our little red-headed friend here! Hot little number, isn't she! As for you, Scully, you are a bitch and a whore. I wipe my hands of you! You used-toilet-paper slut!"

They backed out of the tent. They could hear Mulder's raving going on for some time, then it gradually abated. Scully went back in to check on the dosage. He was resting, his eyes open but trained on some distant object.

"He's OK," she said. "We can get him out of those restraints and back to his tent." They went in, unbuckled the straps and helped Mulder to a sitting position. "Careful of standing him up too soon," she said.

They walked Mulder back to his tent and helped him into his cot. Scully undressed him and pulled the covers over. "Goodnight, Mulder," she said, "you know I love you, don't you?"

******************************************************************************

The precise instant when Mulder had the vision, Krycek was struck by a flash of light and a shock wave so hard that it threw him from his horse. Guardian looked anxiously around as his rider dusted himself off and mounted again. "What the fuck was that?" he wondered. "Could that have been a bomb, up here?"

He shook his head. Then he saw, ahead of him on the trail, a vision of Mulder. "Not this again!" he said, and rode hard as if to ride through the apparition. He was bounced back. Guardian neighed in annoyance and alarm. 

Krycek saw that the Mulder-vision seemed to be talking to an old Indian. Then he saw a coyote on the trail ahead, howling at the moon. "I can't -- I can't -- said Krycek. It was too much for him to assimilate. 

The apparition changed and became Mulder strapped to a hospital bed. "Alex, help me!" he called. "Help me!"

Alex Krycek lost it. He dismounted, and he screamed, and he cried. He babbled. "Remove this cup from me!" he yelled. When he finally looked up, there were no Indians, Mulders or coyotes. He mounted the stallion gingerly, like an old man. "Deity, if there is a deity, help me," he prayed. "How much more of this torment can I bear?"

There were no more incidents as he rode into the night, but he dreaded what lay ahead at the ranch. He reached the floor of Sandy River Valley, and Guardian, sleek and dark with the night, ran to rival the desert wind. 

******************************************************************************

Scully was sick with concern over Mulder. She went by the Lone Gunmen's tents but they were empty. Probably still at the campfire, she thought idly. She went back to her tent and flopped into bed, face mushed against the pillow. Hey -- she got up and went back to the LG's tents again. That was it -- the tents were not only empty of people, they were empty of Stuff. Their duds and supplies and electronic things. She tapped her chin. "You little monsters," she said. "I know what you're up to." She checked for their van, which was of course gone, and sighed. She'd have to tell White about this. He was in fact right behind her.

"They've left, haven't they?" he asked.

"Yes. And I'll bet I know where they're going."

She told him about the copter rental plan. "There're plenty of places that'll charter choppers, no problem." she mused. 

"Think I should send someone after them?" he asked.

Scully snorted. "Let 'em do it, if they're so determined. They'll find out what a cornered wolf is like." Then she thought a moment. "Think they've got some kind of weapon?"

White laughed. "Nothing to rival an Uzi, that's for sure! Those guys with guns? It is to laugh!"

"Hmm." said Scully. Wonder what they've got up their sleeves.

White touched her back then all at once had her in his arms. "Come with me," he breathed. "Be with me tonight."

"Yes," she said. "Where will we go?"

He indicated the horses, tied up to a Jeep. "We'll take them and ride a little way out of camp, where nobody will know our business."

She stood, arms akimbo. "Sounds good, but what about Dan? They're really his horses now."

"Oh, I've already asked him and it's perfectly OK."

"See?" he asked, when they'd drawn nearer. "Sleeping bags, pillows tied to the saddles. All your comforts!"

"Wow! Well planned, Mister White!"

He grinned. "Swing aboard! I think you should take the mare. She's smaller and steadier."

They galloped out the western side of camp toward the bluffs. When they reached one of the large standing rock formations, they stopped. White dismounted and lifted Scully out of the saddle, kissing her before she was on the ground. "Darling," he said, kissing her on the face, the top of her head, and her lips and mouth, long and deeply. He lowered her to the sleeping bag and helped her out of her clothes. He stripped off his and lay beside her. She could feel his large erection and stroked it with her free hand. "Oh God," he moaned. "That feels good, Dana!" She bent and sucked him, taking him deep into her throat. White groaned. When she came up for air he sucked her breasts, tonguing the nipples. He kissed and licked and sucked down her belly and below, and he sucked her pussy so well that she came almost immediately, yelling with abandon.

"Want me to fuck you?" he asked, and she nodded eager assent. He mounted her, and the feel of his big cock penetrating her made her writhe and moan. He began to thrust, slowly. "Tell me how you want it, Dana,"he said. "Fast, slow, gentle or hard?"

"Oh, hard and fast, please, David. Fuck me as hard as you can," she added.

"I can do that," he said, and increased the pressure of his thrusts. "Oh..Oh..Oh." she said with every thrust. Wrapping her legs around him, she pushed back, bucking her hips in concert with his. "I love you," she gasped, and came hard. She very nearly blacked out. Soon after, his cock pounding into her, White came, yelling her name and shooting come into her in a gush.

Later, cuddling in the sleeping bags, White asked her, "When you said 'I love you,' did you mean it?" She looked at him. "Yes. I never say anything I don't mean."

He hugged her close. "God knows I've loved you for a long time, Dana Scully. Now I'm going to say something, promise you won't laugh at me."

"I won't, " she said sleepily.

"I want you to marry me, and I want you to bear my child. I make a very good living with the FBI, and with my investments -- you could have anything you wanted."

"Well," she sat up on one elbow and looked at him, "I'd have to say that I loved you. I'd have to say that I'm in lust with you. I'd have to say, in fact, that I'm in love with you. I think you're very handsome and sexy and you're a terrific friend and a wonderful lover. But... I think I'm not the marrying type. Ask me the same question a few months from now, you could get a different answer! I could say yes! I think what with all the uproar and chaos and confusion around here lately, it'd be hard for me to say one way or the other right now."

"But remember," she said, kissing his lips, his throat, his chest,"I do love you."

******************************************************************************

The van came to a stop. "Where are we?" asked Frohike, sitting up and looking around in the dark.

Langly spoke from the driver's seat. "We're at the second-to-last crossroads. We're at the Swiss cheese sandwich place." The sucker popped in.

"Oh. Do they have a phone?"

"Yep. Hey, Byers, you want to make the call? Wake up!"

"I wasn't sleeping," he muttered.

They all got up and out of the van.

"I could go for another sandwich," said Langly, pushing his white-blond hair back behind his ears.

Frohike snorted. "You must have a tapeworm!"

Byers walked to the public phone booth and began riffling through the yellow pages. Having found what he wanted, he started punching in numbers. On his third try, he got a sleepy pilot who said sure, he would take them to Hidden Valley tomorrow. Afternoon. He had a prior commitment in the morning. Yes, he would pick them up at the mine camp. The whole trip would cost $500. Byers winced but agreed to the price. The fellow seemed to know the geography of the area, so that was good.

Byers relayed all this to his wide-eyed cohorts. The sucker was chewed, and Frohike's bug eyes got bigger than ever.

"So," said Byers tersely, "it looks like we're on. My only concern is with that wild redhead."

Frohike giggled. "Scully? I'll talk to her if you want," he said eagerly.

"I'll just bet," said Langly.

"So now, " said Byers, "we go back to the camp. Frohike, and Langly for that matter, you are to talk to no one about this. That includes Agent Scully."

Frohike shifted his feet uncomfortably. 

"Frohike," said Byers, fixing him with his gaze, "what we're planning on doing is called 'murder.' We can't clue anyone in to this or we spend a long time with a big tattooed guy named Bubba."

The sucker popped out. "No one would prosecute the killers of Alex Krycek."

"You may be right, but the more closed-mouthed about it we are, the better."

"Does this mean we're going to become outlaws?" Frohike asked, wide-eyed.

"Well, we are called 'the lone gunmen,' after all. Now remember, have a stout heart. All for one, and one for all!"

"All for one, and one for all!" they echoed.

******************************************************************************

Krycek crested the last ridge and rode Guardian at a trot down the steep trail. At this rate, he'd be home in an hour or less. 

Half an hour later, he rode the last few steps down the trail and began galloping through the fields, taking two fences at a dead run, like a steeplechaser. Pulling to a stop in the courtyard, he saw that someone was standing there, awaiting his arrival.

"Bill! Bill!" he cried, and Runningwater walked up to take the horse's head. Krycek dismounted and hugged him, hard.

"My poor Alexei," he murmured. "You are hurt."

"I was shot in the shoulder," Krycek said. "I sewed it up myself. It hurts like hell, Bill - afraid it might be infected."

Runningwater touched the wound gently. "Yes, I think I will resuture it and give you an antibiotic. Here, let me help you into the house. Now, I will just put Guardian in the stable and be right back!"

Krycek sat on a wicker loveseat in the anteroom, leaning his head back against the oak walls. "Mulder," he said faintly.

Runningwater came back breathlessly. "Just got some supplies," he said. "Here, why don't you lie on the couch over here and I'll get you all fixed up!"

He led Krycek to the living room and lay him down on a wide couch. "OK, first a shot of Xylocaine to numb the pain..." He bustled around, came back with a scissors. "Got to get these sutures out..." he said, then stitched the wound back up, first puffing antibiotic powder into it.

"Did a pretty good job yourself, Alex, but the thread that you used was damaging the surrounding tissues. Here are some antibiotic pills. Four times a day, with meals. Are you listening to me, Alexei?"

Krycek was staring fixedly and unblinkingly at the ceiling.

"Alexei, what are you doing?" Runningwater persisted gently.

"I'm staring at...nothing...the nothing my life is and will be. Bill, I might as well be dead," he said huskily. "Why bother with the antibiotics, the stitching? I want to die to this world." He turned to Runningwater. "I've lost Mulder, my love, the only thing that really means anything to me. And the Consortium is coming for me. All I see ahead is pain, torture, death."

"I know you've suffered a terrible loss," said Runningwater. "And you're sick and injured, and you need to rest and take care of yourself, by the way. But the Consortium won't come unless you ask them to."

Krycek looked at him long. Bill Runningwater saw the face of the most handsome man he had ever known twisted into an unrecognizable mask with pain. "Someone will call," was all he said, and he turned back.

"Alexei! Come, come! Things are not that bad! You will recover from your injury nicely. You'll see! Everything will be fine!"

Krycek sighed, and rose. "I've got to go out to the kitchen for a minute."

He opened a locked drawer under the marble counter, and fished out a cellular phone. Powerful transmitters were located on the other side of the pantry door; they would only transmit to and from this frequency.

He punched in the speed dial number; there was a ring, then it connected. "Yes?" came the curt response at the other end of the line. He drew in his breath. "This is Ratboy," he said. 

When he had finished, he went out to the living room. "It is done," he said softly. Bill Runningwater had a brief, startling vision of the young man with bleeding stigmata in his hands --he seemed to have both -- and feet. "I surrender to fate," he said, then the vision dissipated and it was just Alexei Krycek, one hand unmarked, feet tucked up beneath him, regarding him with blazing beryl eyes.

"They will find out sooner or later, Bill, better to tell them now," he said to the shocked look on the older man's face.

******************************************************************************

  
Archived: April 22, 2001 


End file.
